


California Dreamin'

by deathsteel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bars and Clubs, Blow Jobs, California, Dean Needs A Hug, Drama, Fingerfucking, Hypocrisy, M/M, Meg as a voice of reason?, Misunderstandings, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Romance, San Francisco Bay Area, Secret Relationship, Slash, Switching, Trust Issues, actor!Castiel, bartender!Dean, so many
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 110,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathsteel/pseuds/deathsteel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Neighbourhood gets its fair share of celebrities and bartender Dean Winchester has pretty much seen it all, but when an intriguing stranger catches his eye one evening will the differences in their lives be enough to keep them apart? Human AU</p><p>{On Hiatus}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean hadn't expected to like California, scratch that. He hadn't expected to like San Francisco. He knew before the move that he would love California. It had everything that he could never get in Kansas, the sandy beaches, the almost year round summer weather, the surfing (which he had turned out to be really good at), seafood at almost every meal, Disneyland.

That had been the deal breaker, Disneyland. It was the first place he and Sammy had stopped at besides crappy hotels, gas stations, and diners on their last brotherly road trip before the younger man started at Stanford in the fall. And man, it had been beyond awesome.

The food and the rides and making out with that guy who played Peter Pan in the backstage, employees only area of the park while Sam got his picture taken with Cinderella. Yea, that little vacation had been one for the scrapbooks, the ones Ellen made. Not the ones that he never finished himself.

It had been hard to leave Anaheim and continue north, but Los Angeles was cool. Too full of ass kissing wanna-bees for Dean's taste, but all of the old Hollywood stuff was pretty neat and he almost convinced Sam to camp out in front of Ryan Gosling's house for the night before they had been scared off by the patrolling policemen in the upscale neighborhood. He had found out that he had the same sized hands as John Wayne and he made his little brother take a picture of him in front of Mann's Chinese theater to commemorate the moment.

Eventually they made it to the town that got its namesake from Sam's new school and Dean managed to kick around long enough to help his little brother unpack into his cramped college housing appropriated apartment before getting restless and moving on to San Francisco which was just under an hour away. Close enough that he could still keep an eye on his baby brother, but far enough away that Sam would be able to finally have his own life for once.

He sublet his first apartment in the city from a guy who was moving to Germany to live with his artist boyfriend and Dean was more than happy to see the flamboyant little man leave so that he could white wash over the large, graphic nude painting that the boyfriend had chosen to grace the living room walls with. It was small, with a bedroom that was barely big enough to fit his king size memory foam mattress, but it was less than five blocks from the beach and it was rent controlled. Two things that were too tempting to ignore in favor of larger accommodations.

Dean looked for a job as a mechanic, it was what he had done in Kansas after all and with references from Rufus and Bobby he figured it would be a breeze. He was wrong, everyone wanted someone who worked on foreign cars, Audis and Benzs, or who did custom paints jobs and airbrushing on tricked out Escalades and El Caminos. Dean just wanted to work on old cars, leave all of the fancy finishing touches to someone who didn't think that every car should only be painted black like his own 1967 Impala was.

So he took a job as a bartender, if there was anything that Dean Winchester did better than fixing rusted out engines it was drinking. He was lucky enough to find a bar that was hiring fairly close to his apartment and it was a normal bar too, not one of the many drag bars that seemed to be everywhere in San Fancisco or one of the tacky tourist traps that were located closer to the beach.

The Neighbourhood was trendy, intimate and inviting all at the same time. It was the kind of place where you could go if you wanted to dance and socialize, but was upscale enough that some of the biggest business deals in the city had taken place in the secluded alcoves and VIP only access areas of the club. It saw its fair share of celebrities, but most nights it was just the usual mid-level movie executives or entourages waiting around for their more famous friends to call them to their sides.

Dean walked into the club after a long day spent surfing and giving Baby a much needed oil change. He was happy that the Oscars had aired the week before because he really wasn't in the mood to deal with all of the pomp and circumstance that the club put on for their annual viewing party that they hosted.

He had been working the main area of the club that night and while the tips had been good, he had been beset upon my weepy boys who were just heartbroken that Hugh Jackman had been robbed of his award. Normally he liked the attention that his looks got him, but that night he had wanted nothing more than a good hard fuck from someone who would take control of the tryst and he sure as hell wasn't going to get it from one of the wispy twinks that had been all over him that night.

"Winchester!"

He looked around for who was calling his name as he made his way towards the employee area of the club where he could set down his jacket and keys before clocking in. He spotted his manager, Meg, a short no-nonsense brunette flagging him down from where she was standing with one of the bouncers going over the list of approved guests for the VIP area.

Dean wandered over, navigating around the talking, laughing clusters of people who were already in the club despite it only being 9pm.

"I'm putting you in VIP tonight." Meg said flipping through the pages on the clipboard she was holding.

"Any specific reason why I'm being punished?" Dean asked trying to peek at the long list of celebrities that only rarely bothered with coming to the upscale bar.

"Well," Meg said glancing down at her watch. "As of two minutes ago, you're late and I just think Anna needs a break from getting hit on by producers all of the time."

"So, I get hit on instead?"

"Come on, Dean. Don't act like you don't love it."

"Fine," he sighed taking a step away from the shorter woman. "But you owe me."

"Drinks at mine after work? I'll make waffles and we can compare horror stories for the night."

"Deal."

Dean moved quickly through the motions of dropping his stuff off in one of the employee lockers and stopped to glance at himself in the mirrored hallway on his way towards the smaller, quieter VIP section that he would be working in that night. He was getting tan from spending so much time outside, freckling a little bit more but that was ok. He straightened the neckline of the dark Henley he had worn to work that night and pulled his sleeves up on his arms. Dean shot his reflection his trademarked smirk and thought to himself that he looked too damn good to be going home alone again tonight.

He served drinks to the few people who were sitting around the small bar and then started tackling the orders from the two waitresses who worked the VIP area, both blondes who worked for one of the area's modeling agencies during the day, Jess and Jo.

They resembled each other enough that they could be sisters, but their personalities were entirely different, Jess was soft spoken sweet and smart and Jo was sarcastic, sharp tongued and catty. But they got along well and Dean envied their close friendship because while he got along well with Meg, it was different to have a roommate or lover you could come home to, who just _knew_ what your day had been like by looking at you.

He sang along with some of the music that the DJ was playing as he mixed cocktails and expertly poured shots. Ash always tried to play something that he knew whatever bartender was working would like. He would mix in upbeat pop hits with classical music for Anna and for Dean he would spin classic rock and 80s mash-ups that were sometimes hilarious (Dean had burst into laughter the first time the wiry man introduced Def Leppard's 'Pour Some Sugar on Me' and Queen's 'We Will Rock You' into the normal rotation on the nights he worked VIP), but usually very good.

Ash had just put on 'It's a Long Way to the Top' by AC/DC, which was pretty much Dean's ultimate power ballad, when Jo sidled up to the bar, balancing her black serving tray on her hip.

"Hottie alert." She said looking down toward the other end of the bar from where Dean was stacking dirty cups into a black plastic tote.

Dean glanced behind him, Jo had notoriously horrible taste in men and her obsession with bad boys was well known by all of The Neighbourhood's employees, before doing a double take at the only person that she could possibly be looking at.

"Dibs," Dean said looking at the man with what he was sure was the most stupid expression on his face. He could feel it, he could feel the stupid on his face.

"No way!" Jo said leaning across the bar top to punch him in the shoulder. "I saw him first."

"Who?" Jess asked clattering a tray of empty cups onto the bar and wiping her prettily perspiring forehead.

Dean nodded at the man sitting at the end of the bar who was too engrossed in whatever he was looking at on his phone to notice that he had the attention of several people on him. The guy was just too, gorgeous and Dean figured he probably didn't even know it.

The man was slim, wearing a rumpled looking grey suit with a white dress shirt and blue tie that had been loosened so that he could undo the top two buttons on his shirt. There was an equally wrinkled tan trench coat draped across the back of his chair and he had a pair of dark framed glasses sitting in front of him on the bar. He had messy dark brown hair that looked like he had either just been seriously fucked or woken up from a very debauched dream, there was at least a day's worth of stubble on his cheeks, but Dean liked his men a little less than clean cut; that rasp of almost beard against his skin was one of the things that just drove him crazy. He had pale, pale skin and long thin fingers that flew over the keys of his phone.

"That guy is a total 'mo." Jess said matter of factly, leaning over to grab three beers out of the ice bin next to Dean's hip and popping the tops off with her bar key. She took a long swig of one of them and then made an up down gesture with the bottle in her hand. "Jo, come on. You can fully tell. Let Dean have him."

Jo sighed and picked up the second beer, "You think? Man, maybe I'm losing my touch. I need to get laid."

"Me too." Dean said gulping when the man looked up from his phone confusedly before he spotted the bartender and waitresses across from him. God, the guy just had the bluest fucking eyes. Were eyes allowed to be that color, was it legal?

"Then go get him, tiger." Jo said, reaching over to give him a playful slap on the butt.

Dean grabbed the remaining beer and downed it in several long swallows; he needed to get his confidence up because this guy was so out of his league. He walked over to the man on shaky legs and let his most winsome smile fall onto his face.

Up close the guy was probably even more handsome, like movie star handsome. Dean watched as he picked up his glasses and placed them back on his perfect nose and god, it was just the cutest gesture and the only thing that could make it better would be if they were held together by masking tape in the center. The other man licked his chapped pink lips and Dean knew that he should probably be saying something right about now, asking him what he wanted to drink, doing his job, something.

"Hi, uh can I get a beer?" The man asked and Dean looked back over his shoulder at the two blondes who were still watching him with amused expressions on their faces, mouthing 'Oh my god' at them.

This guy's voice was like sex on the rocks. He would listen to anything this guy wanted to read to him, fucking descriptions of medieval torture techniques, if it meant that he would just keep hearing that deep, gravelly voice. It was throaty and rusty and he hoped the guy didn't smoke like ten packs a day to get that voice because it would just ruin the whole innocent image of him that Dean had going in his head.

"Anything in particular?" Dean asked leaning against the bar and smiling at the other man cheekily.

The man's mouth twitched and he gave Dean a long look before leaning back and striping off the jacket of his suit. "Just whatever you have on tap is fine."

"Coming right up, sweetheart." Dean said turning and grabbing one of the pint glasses from under the bar and then filling it at the tap with his own favorite brand with practiced motions. He did this so many times every night; he could probably do it in his sleep.

When he returned with the golden, foamy beverage the man had already rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt and loosened his tie even more. Dean watched as he gratefully accepted the beer and took a long drink of it; the muscles in his throat working overtime as he downed at least half of the drink in that first go. The man let out a long sigh when he set the glass back down and then ran a hand through his hair, making it form into new and interesting shapes that defied all of the laws of gravity.

"Long day?" Dean asked, thankful for probably the first time ever that he was working the VIP area because he could take the time to talk to this guy a little more since there weren't as many other customers to take care of.

"Long week," the guy replied drawing shapes in the water that was condensing off of his glass on the bar top. His phone buzzed and vibrated next to him and he made a face before he picked it up and looked at who was trying to contact him. The man glanced up at Dean and then back down at the phone in his hand before hitting the ignore button and setting it back down. "I just got out of the meeting from hell."

"What do you do?" Dean noticed as the other man hesitated slightly at the question. "If you don't mind me asking."

"I work in film. I'm a—"

"Wait!" Dean said holding up a hand at the other man and putting the other up to his temple like he was a mind-reader. "Let me guess. I'm really good at this."

The man smiled and leaned back in his chair, giving Dean the opportunity to take in more of his body and damn, what a body. Even under the rumpled suit it was easy to see that the guy took care of himself, probably ran or did yoga judging from the toned muscles moving under the thin material of his dress shirt. A shirt that probably cost more than everything in Dean's wardrobe combined.

"You're a writer. A screenwriter, but that's not what you do. You're job is producing and you just got done negotiating with some high strung diva somewhere for the next the movie you're working on. Some romantic comedy where boy meets girl, misunderstandings ensue and everyone lives happily ever after once they get their heads out of their asses."

"Amazing." The man said smiling widely at Dean, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle merrily.

"I was right?"

The man nodded, "I don't understand why you think I'm a producer who secretly wants to be a writer though."

Dean shrugged, "Everyone here is chasing a dream. Most of them end up having to settle for something they don't really want to be doing, but everyone's got bills to pay. Y'know?"

"So what are you?" The man asked leaning across the bar towards Dean who found himself moving to mirror the position, perching on his folded arms and meeting the intriguing, beautiful man halfway. "A struggling actor? No a model? Maybe a stuntman moonlighting as a bartender till you hit it big? Get cast as Brad Pitt's stunt double or something?"

He laughed at that, it wasn't the first time someone thought he was a model, but stuntman was new. "No. I'm just a mechanic with a rule about not working on cars that are younger than me."

"How's that working out for you?" The man asked, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Tonight, it's working out pretty well. Name's Dean. Dean Winchester." He stuck out his hand for the other man, realizing it was kinda pointless since they were right in each other's faces anyway.

The other man reached across the small space separating them and wrapped his slim, perfect fingers around Dean's outstretched hand. His grip was firm, sure and warm. "Castiel. Castiel Krushnic."

Dean quirked his eyebrow at the name, "Russian?"

"My father," the man answered smiling. "Shouldn't you be working or something, Dean?"

Dean shrugged, it was getting late. There weren't many people left in the bar and if he decided to duck out he was pretty sure Jo or Jess could handle things without him. The phone vibrated on the bar again and both men looked down to see a picture of an angry looking man in a black suit flashing across the screen. He looked up to see Castiel biting his lip indecisively, a finger hovering over the ignore button lit up on the touch screen.

"Do you need to get that?" Dean asked lowly causing the man across from him to look up with those wide blue eyes.

Castiel studied Dean's face for a moment before picking up the phone and turning it off, slipping it into the pocket of his suit coat. "Do you want to get out of here?"

He was surprised by the suddenness of the question; usually it was him making the moves on the men he brought home. But he could dig the straightforward way Castiel had asked him. It had sounded possessive made him feel all kinds of sexy and wanted by the gorgeous man in the wrinkled suit.

"Jess!" Dean called not breaking eye contact with this man who for some reason had taken an interest in him. He felt like if he blinked then Castiel would disappear. "Tell Meg I had to leave. Something came up."

"Oh, I'm sure something's coming up!" Jo said with a snicker as Jess gave her a long-suffering eye roll and nodded at Dean.

"I have to grab my stuff," Dean said breathlessly coming around the bar as Castiel stood and pulled on his suit jacket, draping his trench coat across his arm. "Just don't move."

He practically ran to the break room, snatching his jacket roughly out of the locker and fumbling with his keys as he searched for the one that would unlock the Impala. Castiel was waiting for him in the mirrored hallway, shuffling his feet and looking around anxiously when Dean emerged from the door marked 'Employees Only'.

Dean stopped, his breath catching in his chest. God, this guy was so fucking gorgeous and he wanted him. Castiel's image, a picture of unstudied beauty, was reflected a million times across the mirrored walls and Dean took advantage of their moment in the dimly lit hallway to step closer to the other man and lean down to place a soft, lingering kiss on those perfect pink lips. He could feel Castiel tense beneath him for a moment before a hand rose to the nape of his neck and he was pulled closer.

Their mouths fit perfectly together and Dean sighed into the kiss. It was exactly how he had thought it would be with the other man; hot and innocent at the same time and it made liquid heat pool in his stomach. If just one kiss did this to him, then he couldn't imagine what else Castiel could do to him if say, he wasn't wearing any clothes.

He broke the embrace and twined his fingers through the free hand that Castiel had managed to place on Dean's waist. With a small tug and a smirk he led him through the back hallways of the bar, avoiding the large crowded main area so that Meg wouldn't ask him why he was ditching the rest of his shift and out to the parking lot.

Dean unlocked his car and climbed into the driver's seat, leaning over to unlock the passenger side door from the inside. Castiel scrambled into the car, looking around nervously and Dean figured that maybe he wasn't out yet. He could understand the other man's unease, Dean had jumped at every little noise and movement the first time he had gone home with another man when he was a teenager, but that was in Kansas where he probably would've gotten his ass kicked for being a fag. This was San Francisco, straight couples got more stares on the streets here than two dudes would.

He started the car and grinned sheepishly at the man beside him when The Police started blaring from the radio. Castiel smiled at him, pushing his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose and sinking down low in the seat as he scooted closer to Dean.

Dean stretched an arm across the back of the seat and Castiel took advantage of the open space to snuggle close to Dean and start placing soft, teasing kisses on his neck and ear. He was getting turned on so fucking much and he wished that he could just blink and they would be back at his apartment.

"You're so beautiful," Castiel murmured in his ear as they were stopped at a red light. Dean shivered as the other man's warm breath ghosted over his skin and Castiel reached a hand over to rest on his thigh.

He turned to the man beside him and lunged in for another kiss, feeling his jeans get tighter as he took in the taste and smell of Castiel. It was like how the air smelled right after a summer rainstorm, like electricity and ozone and broken blades of grass.

A horn sounded behind them and Dean pulled away reluctantly this time, turning his attention back to the road as he broke every traffic law to get to his apartment as quickly as possible.

They stumbled up the four flights of stairs to his apartment, stopping every so often to pull each other into another breathless, bruising kiss that served no other purpose besides making the tense, unexplainable coil of attraction between the two of them wind tighter and tighter. And Dean didn't know how it happened, but he certainly was not going to complain about it when Castiel pressed him hard against his front door once they finally, finally make it into the small apartment.

"Well, hello there." Dean said with a smirk as the other man hovered over him, their faces inches apart as Castiel panted heavily from the climb to their destination.

"Hello Dean." The other man growled out before burying his face in the taller man's neck and inhaling deeply. And, damn if that wasn't just the sexiest thing that anyone had ever done. "You smell really good. Like the ocean and pumpkins."

"Pumpkins?" Dean laughed, pushing slightly on Castiel's shoulders until he could look at the other man's face, his glasses were slightly askew and Dean reached out to tilt them back into place.

"I like pumpkins," Castiel explained leaning forward to kiss him again.

It was soft at first, but then quickly became heated again as the smaller man nibbled on Dean's lower lip. Dean parted his lips slightly allowing his tongue to dart out and taste Castiel's mouth before he was full on assaulted by the man crowding him farther against the door, hands moving possessively to cup the back of his head, fingers sifting through his hair eliciting a groan from Dean.

Dean's hands clutched at the material of Castiel's jacket before he gave up any pretense of being modest and just pushed the coat forcefully off of the other man's shoulders and stared working on the buttons of his shirt next. His fingers were shaking and he fumbled blindly as his mouth worked furiously against Castiel's, it had been too damn long and this was too damn good.

Castiel's mouth moved off of his and Dean let out a strangled sound of disappointment before he felt the other man's skillful lips moving down his jaw and neck to nip playfully at the hollow of his throat as a thigh slipped between his legs, allowing him to grind down and relieve some of the pressure that his zipper was putting on his growing erection.

"Too many clothes," he heard the other man groan into his ear before sucking lightly on his lobe.

Dean made a needy noise low in his throat and flipped Castiel around so that he could quickly strip off his own leather jacket and pull his Henley over his head. He reached out to twist the tie off of the other man and finish unbuttoning the white dress shirt as he felt trembling hands smooth over the tanned planes of his chest and abdomen. Castiel's skin stood out a stark white in the dim apartment and a primal part of Dean liked how it contrasted against his own sun kissed skin.

He pulled on the other man's belt loops, dragging him towards the bedroom as he moved backwards through the small space, navigating easily around the couch and coffee tables that stood between the pair and their destination.

Dean allowed himself to be pushed backwards onto the bed by Castiel when he felt his knees hit the edge of the mattress. The paler man loomed over him and Dean could see how his pupils were blown wide with lust in the soft moonlight that filtered through the windows that faced the ocean. He watched as Castiel kicked off his dress shoes and made quick work of the belt and fastenings of his pants, never taking his eyes off of Dean who had started palming his own erection through his jeans, wanting nothing more than touch himself as he watched his lover undress, but knowing it would be all the better if he waited to be touched by the other man first.

"Fuck," he heard Castiel mutter as he stripped down to just a pair of form fitting black boxer briefs, a sizeable bulge clearly visible even in the dim light. "You're gorgeous."

The smaller man crawled up the end of the bed and hovered over Dean's body as he straddled his hips. Dean leaned up to pull Castiel back down into another kiss, this one slower and sweeter, calming the urgency of the situation enough that Dean could still his rapidly pulsing heart before he came in his pants like a goddamn teenager. He was used to being complimented for his looks, but no one had ever said it so reverently as this amazing person hovering over him, staring into his eyes like he really meant everything he was saying.

Dean plucked the glasses off of Castiel's face and deposited them blindly on the night stand next to the bed, feeling the other man smile into their kiss as they clattered when he dropped them. He allowed his hands to roam over Castiel's back, feeling the hard taunt planes of muscle moving under the smooth skin and reveling in how their bodies seemed to fit together like puzzle pieces.

He groaned when the other man's hand fell to the button and zipper of his jeans and those long fingers made quick work of freeing him from what Dean's lust addled brain had started thinking of as denim purgatory.

Castiel pulled back sharply, looking down in surprise at the fact that Dean wasn't wearing any boxers under his jeans. He quirked an amused eyebrow at the man laying beneath him and laughed when his lover just smirked at him in return.

Dean shrugged against the mattress, "Wishful thinking?'

He flipped the still laughing Castiel over and started down at the breathtaking sight of the smaller man trying to suppress his mirth until it just turned into small, cute bursts of giggles. Dean kicked his boots off and wriggled his way out of his jeans before he started placing his own tender kisses across the shaking man's face, planting them on his eyelids and cheekbones, trailing across his forehead and down his jaw pausing just long enough delve into the other man's mouth for a long, sensuous kiss.

"Amazing, Cas. You're amazing. So handsome and funny. God, I don't think I'll ever get enough of you." Dean whispered the platitudes into Castiel's ear, something he normally wouldn't do when he was trying to just get off with some random dude he met at the beach or one of the few gay bars he frequented. But he really thought Cas was something special and his gut told him that the guy didn't hear it often enough to believe it about himself.

"Say it again." Castiel groaned underneath him, rutting his boxer clad erection against Dean's thigh unabashedly as the man above him gently bit his collar bone and then kissed away the sting.

"I can't get enough of you." Dean said slightly muffled from where his face was pressed into the hollow of Castiel's throat.

"No," the other man said, tugging slightly on Dean's hair to get him to look up. Verdant eyes met cerulean and the electricity in the gaze sparked palpably between the pair. "My name. I like the way you say my name."

Dean smiled and leaned down to kiss the tip of the man's nose, chuckling as the man beneath him went slightly cross-eyed as he watched the action. "Cas."

Castiel moaned and clutched at Dean's shoulders as the larger man started ghosting kisses down his chest, stopping to lavish attention on the dark, pert nipples and kiss the small moles that dotted the pale, board expanse of chest and stomach beneath him. Dean could feel his own erection throbbing as he reached the dark trail of hair leading down from Cas's belly button to mysterious places under those tight black boxers.

He stopped teasingly over the cloth covered bulge and looked up at Castiel from under his eyelashes. The other man was breathing heavily and had one hand fisted in the dark blue sheets covering Dean's bed.

"Dean, please. You're such a fucking tease," Castiel groaned throwing his head back wantonly against the pillows, exposing the long column of his neck.

Dean could see a small dark mark on the other man's collarbone where he had bit him and felt a surge of possessive lust flow through him when he thought of other people seeing how he had marked this perfect man as his own.

He hooked his fingers under the elastic waistband of Castiel's underwear and pulled them off, shuffling around until he was kneeling between legs of the other man. His own cock was curled up tight and aching against his stomach and he felt it twitch as he took in the sight of Castiel fully exposed and laid out on his bed.

The light coming in through the window cast the most beautiful shadows on the sharp angles of Cas's hipbones and he could see the slight sheen of sweat that had formed on the other man's chest . Dean just wanted to spend the next week memorizing every curve and plane of the smaller man's body, but his attention was brought back to their current situation when Castiel thrust his hips into the air desperately seeking friction for his own long member that was jutting up proudly from the dark, thatch of hair where that curious trail had ended.

He settled down on his stomach between the other man's legs and Castiel reached down to cup his face for a moment, their eyes met and Dean forgot how to breathe. He reached out a shaky hand to grasp Castiel's member and gave it a couple tentative strokes, adding a twist of his wrist on the upstroke that caused the other man to groan lewdly.

And that was all it took. Dean had to have Castiel in his mouth like ten minutes ago. He leaned over and steered the red, leaking head of the other man's cock between his lips and was rewarded with Cas twining his fingers through his hair and murmuring encouragement.

"Oh, dear Lord. Yes, Dean. You're so beautiful."

He flicked his tongue into the slit at the tip of Castiel's member and savored the taste of the other man's salty fluid spreading throughout his mouth. Dean bobbed his head experimentally, seeing how far he could go down on the other man before he felt that familiar nudging at the back of his throat.

He pulled away slightly and spread the saliva down Castiel's length, providing his own lubrication as he stroked the writhing man before delving back down to take the rigid fullness back into his mouth; hollowing out his cheeks and humming in contentment as he ground down on the sheets beneath him to relieve the aching in his own cock.

Castiel's fingers tightened in his hair and he could feel the man fighting the urge to thrust up into his mouth. He pulled off of Castiel's cock with a vulgar, wet popping sound and looked up at the man who was struggling with opening eyes to look down at Dean.

When Cas did he was greeted with the sight of the panting man between his legs, mouth mere inches away from his flushed member; mouth red, swollen, and shiny with a mixture of spit and precome. It was probably the hottest thing he had ever seen in his life.

"I can take it, Cas. Just let go." Dean said his voice sounding raspier than usual before he took almost the entire length of Castiel back into his mouth.

Scratch that. Dean swallowing around his dick was the hottest thing he had ever seen and Castiel had seen a lot of exotic things in his life.

He threw his head back and just let himself feel the tight, wet heat of the other man's mouth as he gripped the short strands of Dean's dark blonde hair. He bucked up into Dean's mouth, the first time on accident but when he heard the muffled moan of the other man and felt the vibration of it all the way to his toes he began to thrust into the mouth surrounding him with abandon, part of him still taking care to not make Dean choke.

Castiel felt the familiar tingling at the base of his spine and tried to warn Dean.

"Dean, stop. I'm gonna…I want to….no!"

It took every ounce of strength that he had to pull Dean off of him. He wanted nothing more than to have this fucking Adonis streaked in his come, marked so that everyone could see that he belonged to Castiel Dmitri Krushnic and no one else would ever be allowed to touch him. But that was not how this night was going to end and a sad, rational part of him knew that.

Castiel pulled a confused looking Dean up to his face by his forearms noting how the other man's eyes fluttered as their erections slotted together perfectly. He kissed the man above him deeply and ran his hands over every part of him that he could touch, needing to memorize how Dean felt so that he could look back on this time they had together and remember it in as much detail as possible. Because he was never going to be let out of his overgrown nanny's sight after tonight so he might as well enjoy it.

He kissed the other man like all of the air he would ever need was hiding in Dean's lungs and turned them so he was once again on top of the other man. He needed to be in control of this situation, he needed to make this good for Dean so that the other man wouldn't be giving so much of himself to Castiel.

He balanced himself on his forearms above Dean and stroked away the hair that had fallen onto his lover's forehead, marveling at the way his eyes seemed to glow in the dark room. The kisses became less desperate, more meaningful. Castiel was pouring every unspoken, unasked for promise that he would never make to Dean into those kisses because life wasn't fair and this couldn't work and there would never be a time when his career wouldn't dictate his every move. But tonight, he could make tonight worth it. And that's what he tried to tell Dean as he cradled his face and stroked his sides and thrust his hips slowly against the ones of the man beneath him.

"Cas," Dean breathed into his mouth. "You're so awesome. God, you're amazing. Please don't leave, sweetheart. Please don't leave me."

Castiel shut his eyes as Dean poured forth endearments and pleas and he buried his face in the other man's neck so that he wouldn't see the tears welling up unbidden in his eyes. He reached a hand between them and captured both of their sliding erections in his grip, creating a hot tight tunnel that was eased only by the saliva that Dean had left on his cock.

Their breathing quickened and both men were groaning and muttering incoherent sweet nothings, making the kind of dopamine-induced declarations of affection that most one night stands regretted in the morning, but right now felt like the most sincere things that either man had ever uttered.

"I want you to come for me, Dean." Castiel growled into his lover's ear. He could feel the tingling in his spine and he wanted, no needed to see Dean come undone. God if it was the only good thing he ever did with his life, he needed to give this gorgeous man something to remember him by.

"Fuck, Cas!" Dean groaned and writhed beneath him, grabbing on to Castiel's shoulders as he thrust up into the fist between them. "Tell me your close, please. I need…I'm gonna… Caaasss!"

Dean arched his back off of the bed, hot white spurts of come spilling into the tight space between their chests and as Castiel watched his lover bite his lip in an effort to stifle his moans and felt him grip his arms tight enough to leave bruises he was gone. Reaching his orgasm just moments after Dean did, his vision going white on the edges and his lover's name falling from his lips over and over like a prayer.

He collapsed on the bed next to Dean, being careful not to crush the other man who was still coming down from his own post-orgasm high, chest heaving as he dragged in deep gasping gulps of air. Castiel let a contented smile fall onto his face as he fell his pulse begin to slowly return to normal. His limbs felt heavy and his thoughts were pleasantly fuzzy.

Dean turned to him, propping himself up on one elbow and scooting closer to kiss the corners of Castiel's upturned mouth. Neither man paid any attention to the rapidly cooling mess on their chest and stomachs and Castiel wondered idly if he would have time to take a shower in the morning.

"So that guy who was calling you earlier," Dean asked uncertainly, trailing his fingers over Cas's hipbones and lower abdomen. "That wasn't your boyfriend or anything was it?"

Castiel cocked an eyebow at him and caught Dean's wandering hand, bringing it up to his mouth to place a chaste kiss to the other man's palm. "Shouldn't you have asked that before we did this?"

Dean felt his stomach drop and prepared himself for the inevitable, all of the good ones were always taken, but that didn't mean he liked being made into the other guy.

"He wasn't my boyfriend, Dean." Castiel said noticing the distressed look on the other man's face.

"Really?" he couldn't help the hope that seeped into his voice.

"More like my babysitter or my personal assistant. He makes sure that I'm where I need to be when need to be there." Castiel replied gathering Dean into his arms and carding his fingers through the short locks of the other man's hair.

"So you can stay?" Dean asked resting his head on Cas's chest, hearing the steady beat of the heart beneath the warm, pale skin.

"Yea, I can stay." The rumbling voice replied.

"Good, because I make a mean omelet."

"Wouldn't want to miss that," Castiel murmured sleepily into his hair, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead.

Dean awoke early in the morning feeling more relaxed than he had in ages and it took him a moment to remember why. Thankfully, the warm presence of the body pressed up behind him and the weight of the arm draped over his waist brought back all of the memories from the night before and he smiled into the sheets as he thought about Cas calling him beautiful and gorgeous. Making him feel wanted and safe and sexy.

He slid out of the bed, careful not to disturb the other man and padded quietly over to the bathroom, taking care of his morning ablutions and debating to himself for a moment before hopping into the glass paneled cubicle for a quick shower.

He placed a soft kiss onto Castiel's cheek and slipped on a pair of blue plaid pajama pants before heading to the kitchen to start some coffee and gather the ingredients for his trademark Winchester omelet. There was only one problem, he was out of coffee.

Dean considered for a moment just not having coffee for his guest to drink, but if Castiel was anything like himself then the other man probably wouldn't be able to function without at least some caffeine in him.

He crept back into the bedroom, noticing that Cas was a sprawler when he had the bed all to himself and admiring how the sun played off of the smooth lines of the sleeping man's back, before shoving on his boots and moving into the living room to grab his shirt from the night before off of the floor. He wrote a quick note on the back of a menu for take-out Korean that he had lying on the counter of the breakfast nook and left it on the nightstand next to Castiel's glasses.

He jogged down the four flights of stairs and around the corner to the closest Starbucks, smiling when he ordered the biggest fanciest pumpkin spice latte for Castiel and a cup of black coffee for himself before he made his way back to his apartment. He had to sidestep a black Lincoln town car with darkly tinted windows on his way back , narrowly avoiding being hit since he was too busy wondering if Cas would be up for round two instead of paying attention when he was crossing the street.

Dean toed off his boots when he got back inside the apartment and crept towards the bedroom with the pumpkin flavored concoction, wanting to wake up the other man gently just in case he was the type of person who woke up swinging.

He hadn't expected to find his bed empty when he returned. Dean looked around the small space confusedly, checking the bathroom and small kitchen before he finally noticed that the note he had left had been moved to the small table close to the door where he usually ditched his car keys and wallet when he walked in the door. Underneath his written note, there was another added on in small neat handwriting that was so different from his own messy barely legible scrawl.

_Cas_

_Out of coffee, be back in ten minutes. Make yourself at home._

_XDean_

**Dean**

**Thank you for a wonderful evening.**

**–C**

He looked down at the note for a couple of minutes before crumpling it into a tight ball. He grabbed the coffee he had bought for Castiel off of the counter and calmly dumped it down the kitchen sink, watching the vaguely orange liquid swirl away and allowing the hope he had permitted himself to foster to go with it.

Dean grabbed the bottle of whiskey he kept for emergencies out of the cabinet over the sink and went to sit on the edge of his bed. He took a long draught of the burning liquid and lay down as the warmth spread through his chest. It was only when he realized that his pillow still smelled like summer rain that he finally allowed the tears to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I literally knocked this out yesterday on my day off and am just a tiny bit proud of how it came out. This is probably going to be a multi-chapter fic that I will write as time permits in between posting chapters for my other story, Born to Run.  
> Updates will not be regular, sorry.  
> That still doesn't mean I don't value your input so take the time to review and we might all find ourselves pleasantly surprised by how nonexistent my social life is so that I can spend time working on both fics at once.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel was woken by the feel of the mattress beneath him rising slightly as Dean climbed out of the bed. He grumbled softly at the other man, missing his warmth in the bed next to him and watched through cracked eyelids as Dean left the room, his naked back glowing golden in the morning sunlight streaming through the partially raised blinds covering the windows.

He got out of the bed, looking around blearily for his boxers for a moment before he gave up and wandered into the living room in search of his cell phone. Cas found his suit jacket crumpled on the floor near the doorway and smiled at the trail of clothing that led from the entranceway of the apartment to Dean's cozy bedroom before he grabbed his smart phone from where he had abandoned it the night before and thumbed the power button.

The shower was running and he thought about slipping in with the other man as an early morning wake up call, but then the device in his hand started buzzing and he decided that he probably should see what he had missed. He wandered back into the bedroom and collapsed onto his stomach on the soft, springy mattress.

Cas started trying to check his missed texts, but every time he opened up the screen to view them the phone once again rattled in his hand and went back to the home screen. He buried his face in Dean's pillow, shoving his arms underneath and decided to wait out the buzzing so that he could read through everything in one go.

He dozed off again, having a vague, semi-lucid dream about eating breakfast with Dean, sipping coffee and actually getting to know more about one another than what their jobs were. In his dream, he really was a producer. The type of mild-mannered position that would allow him to make enough money to still help his parents, but was anonymous enough that no one cared what he did in his spare time or who he did it with.

Castiel's dream was pleasantly domestic and his mind replaced some of the things in Dean's apartment with his own knick-knacks, making the small space look like he belonged there. Like he and the other man were a couple who had no problems bringing things over to each other's homes and leaving them there, knowing that they would still be around the next time they decided they needed them.

When the door to the apartment closed, the small noise was enough to snap him back to consciousness. He pulled the phone back out and started to wade through the notifications on the small screen. There were 28 texts. And 12 missed calls, seven of which had left voicemails.

He started reading the messages first, still settled on his stomach and kicking his feet up in the air lazily behind him.

 **[March 9, 2013 12:42AM] Mom:** Congratulations sweetie! XOXO mom & dad

 **[March 9, 2013 1:12AM] Crowley:** Lilith sent a copy of the contract, everything looks good.

 **[March 9, 2013 1:27AM] Crowley:** When you get back tomorrow, you have a phone interview with People.

 **[March 9, 2013 1:30AM] Crowley:** Don't drink too much, I know you're celebrating but you're irritating when you're hung over.

 **[March 9, 2013 1:49AM] Crowley:** Last call. Go back to the hotel and get some sleep.

It went on and on with his agent babying him worse than his own mother ever did when he still lived on the east coast. Around four in the morning the texts started to get desperate, asking if he was ok if he had made it back to the hotel. By seven they were bordering on threatening, Crowley was saying he was going to call the police tell them he had been kidnapped by rabid fans.

The voicemails were worse, he could hear that his friend was sincerely worried about him, but the most recent one was what had him shooting out of the bed and scrambling his clothes on.

" _Jimmy, its Crowley. Do you want to explain these bloody pictures I'm looking at!? I know you aren't at the hotel, call me as soon as you get this or I will be forced to do something drastic."_

Cas quickly scrolled through the meager contacts on his phone until he landed on Crowley's name and he shoved his shoes on his feet as he listened to the connecting ringtone.

"Where are you?" he heard the clipped Scottish accent seethe at him through the tinny speakers of the phone.

"Crowley, I can explain—"

"You bloody well will explain. Do you know what I woke up to? A sodding bike messenger ringing my bell at eight in the morning with a bloody envelope full of pictures of you snogging another man in the middle of traffic!"

"We weren't snogging, Crow, listen—"

"Where are you?" The Scotsman's tone was brittle and Cas felt like he could almost feel the murderous look he must be getting through the phone.

"I'm leaving, right now. I'm going to go get my stuff from the hotel and then I'm coming back to L.A."

"I just need an address; a driver has already picked up your luggage. Now, tell me where you are."

Castiel rattled off the cross-streets near Dean's apartment. He couldn't really remember the address, he had had other things on his mind at the time.

"Be ready in five minutes." Crowley ordered and Castiel nodded even though he knew that the other man couldn't see him. "And Castiel?"

He stopped as he scrambled for the note that Dean had left for him on the bedside table, his heart sinking in his chest as he realized that he may not have time to say goodbye.

"Yea, I'm listening." He replied distractedly, not noticing that Crowley had broken his first big rule and used his real name, it was a habit he was constantly trying to break his client of when he met new people.

"What is his name?"

"Dean," he replied softly, finding a pen that had been left on the kitchen counter and letting it hover over the take out menu.

"I hope he was bloody well worth it." Crowley snapped at him before hanging up.

"He was." Castiel said softly to the empty apartment.

He stared at the paper in front of him, chewing on his lip and feeling like nothing he could possibly write would make up for the fact that he wouldn't be here when the other man got back. There were so many things he wanted to say, wanted to explain to Dean to make him understand but putting it down on paper would take much more than the small space left on the menu for Chamdoen Salang. Castiel felt like nothing he could write would possibly make up for the fact that he was running out on something that might mean something.

This was stupid, he hadn't said more than ten sentences to Dean before they had slept together and now here he was having to write a Dear John letter before he went back to his fabulous life and his fabulous friends and that was what he should want, not the cramped apartment or an omelet made by a man who couldn't even keep his kitchen stocked with coffee.

He scrawled a short note, grimacing at how impersonal and cold it sounded, before grabbing his trench coat from where Dean must have placed it on the back of the couch and shoving his tie in the pocket of his suit jacket. Castiel took once last look around the apartment on his way out, trying to memorize how it looked and smelled so that he could look back fondly at this small private memory that he could hold onto when the rest of his life was such an open book.

He trudged down the stairs slowly, thinking that maybe if he took long enough then Dean would come back and he could say goodbye properly. But the other man still hadn't showed by the time he slipped into the town car that Crowley had sent for him. The windows were tinted really dark and he supposed that it cost a pretty penny for the kind of discretion Crowley seemed to think that the situation warranted.

Cas ran a tired hand over his face, scratching at the stubble that was on his jaw and shifting around in the back seat until he got comfortable. He heard the driver curse under his breath as they rounded the first corner away from Dean's apartment and he looked up in enough time to see the one person he most wanted to talk to give a sheepish salute to the car and continue on down the street, clutching two large white and green cups.

He reached for the door handle, not really caring that the car was still moving but was startled out of his thoughts when he heard all of the locks of the car engage at once. Castiel whipped around in his seat from where he was watching Dean's receding back to shoot the driver a dirty look. The kid was young, really young. He looked like he was playing dress up in his chauffer uniform and had an apologetic expression on his face that Castiel could see in the rearview mirror.

"Sorry, Mr. Collins," The man said in a voice that sounded sincerely repentant. "Mr. Crowley said if I let you out of the car he would put me on a rack and make sure I died slowly."

He sighed and cast one last glance out of the back window of the car, Dean was gone anyway, before letting his hand drop back down to his lap.

"It's okay." He told the boy, pulling his trench coat over him like a blanket and settling miserably back into the seat. _Fucking Crowley._

They headed out of the city and Castiel steeled himself for the six hour drive he knew was ahead of them, longer if the traffic was bad. Crowley must have been pretty desperate to get him home if he had been too rushed to buy a plane ticket. This was bad, this could only be bad.

"If it's not weird or anything," The driver said tapping his hands on the steering wheel to the music that was playing softly on the radio. "I just want to say I'm a big fan, Mr. Collins."

"What's your name kid?" Castiel asked trying to make up for how rude he could only imagine his manager had been to the boy all morning.

"Samandriel," he said effortlessly navigating through the traffic on the busy California freeway. "My friends call me Alfie."

"Well, you can call me James or Jimmy. Mr. Collins makes me feel old."

"Really?" Alfie replied excitedly, glancing back at him and perking up in the front seat. "Wait until my mom hears about this, meeting James Collins my first week in L.A."

He laughed slightly at that and watched the sparse scruffy grass pass by on the side of the road in a blur, broken only by the sad, mangled looking trees that managed to flourish in the smog created by the passing cars.

The salty, smell of the ocean would be covered up by the pollution in the air if he were to open the window, but Castiel imagined that Dean's briny scent was with him in the car. He surreptitiously sniffed his trench coat and was surprised to find that it did actually smell faintly of pumpkins. Of autum and the leaves changing colors and home. He swallowed the lump in his throat and stared out the window with eyes that had glossed over with tears, Cas thought this was all so unfair and the irony was not lost on him when he realized how selfish that sounded. He already had so much and still he wasn't happy.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Maybe he should go back to Hati? Spend some time with people who truly had reasons to be miserable, but still found pleasure in the little things, were thankful for what they did have instead of dwelling on what they had lost. Castiel considered asking Crowley if he had time for a little charity trip before they made the big announcement about the new movie.

He was wondering idly how they were going to adapt the script from Hitchcock's original screenplay and allowed his imagination to wander to who they would cast opposite him, maybe he would get to work with Quinto. This seemed right up his alley, dark and mind-bending sorta like the stuff he was doing on American Horror Story only less gory. Then again he was probably too busy with all of the Star Trek stuff to bother doing a smaller budget film.

Focus Features may be the biggest production company that Castiel had ever worked with, but he knew that a lot of actors regarded the Universal offshoot as someone they would go to when they were already established and looking to widen the range of things they did. For him, it would be how he finally went from doing television and documentary voice over work to something real and big and life-altering. Something that would make him a household name, well James Collins a household name, but it was essentially the same thing. It's not like he could keep his real name from the public forever.

A little over midway through the trip he fell asleep, face pressed up against the glass of the window and his trench coat pulled up over his head to block out the light and make a snug, warm pumpkin scented haven that he could wallow in. A soft tapping on sound near his face is what brought him back and he snorted and sputtered as he woke up, the cold glass making his face feel flat and his glasses pinching his nose from where they had settled crookedly in his sleep.

Alfie opened the door for him when he sat up and he muttered a thank you at the younger boy as he retrieved his bag from the trunk of the town car. When he was sheepishly offered a copy of the second season of Dr. Sexy M.D. to sign, Cas fished out a sharpie from one of the side pockets of his small suitcase and added his trademarked flourishing signature.

'Thanks for a wild ride, Jimmy Collins.'

He smirked at the pun and handed the case back to the driver who thanked him profusely enough that it made Castiel self-conscious. He had only had a minor role on the show that season, playing a patient with a rare heart condition who was briefly a romantic interest of one of the main actresses for six or seven episodes when he had first moved to L.A. after meeting Crowley. It was probably the thing he was most recognized for and while it had been a serious role it was also irksome the amount of fans he had who thought that was all he had ever done.

Cas shook hands with the young driver before making his way up the front steps of his Los Angeles home. It was a modestly sized two story, Tuscan affair with climbing ivy up the sides and a red terracotta tiled roof. He liked it because it was the complete opposite of everything Crowley had tried to get him to buy, it was open and light and airy inside with vaulted ceilings and exposed rafters. He liked the arched entryways and the big tiled patio in the back that abutted against the pool and had it a small yard where he could garden during the times he was home enough to water the plants that attracted the honeybees and hummingbirds that he watched in the mornings.

Crowley thought it was too small with only three bedrooms, but it was more than enough for Castiel who only ever had his parents visit him once or twice a year when they could manage the flight across country depending on how his dad's health was. His agent had wanted him to get a big, glassy modern styled home in the Hollywood hills, but he liked the anonymity of his gated community and the other actors and actresses that lived here were as desirous of their privacy as he was. Even after almost five years of living in Los Angeles he still hadn't managed to replace all of the finishing touches in the house chosen by the decorator Crowley had hired for him with things that were more to his taste.

He trudged in the front door, abandoning his bag and coat in the foyer and making his way towards the back left-hand corner of the house where the kitchen faced the backyard with its atrium windows. He really needed some coffee if he was going to make it through the rest of the day.

Alfie had stopped only once on their way down the California coastline and that had been to go through a McDonald's drive thru because Cas was putting on his best 'I'm so hungry I'm going to die' face and whining in the backseat.

Shuffling towards the kitchen, he lost his shoes and suit jacket somewhere along the way and he had to stop and clutch at the back of the couch in the living room for a moment when he was hit with a sudden flashback of the trail of clothes leading through Dean's apartment and the swell of emotion and loss and guilt made him double over in pain. He finally made it to the large, airy space and leaned against the counter top as his high-end coffee maker percolated just as slowly as the cheap one he had had back in college did.

"You look like shit."

Cas looked up in the direction he heard the familiar voice coming from and spotted his manager, looking impeccable and a lot less pissed off than he had imagined he would, standing in the doorway leading towards the dining room.

"I feel like it," he replied grabbing his favorite mug out of the cabinet and sloshing some of the coffee into the cup, grimacing as the still dripping filter made the burner hiss and spit at him angrily.

He sipped at the hot drink and wondered idly what kind of coffee Dean had gotten for him, looking at Crowley and wondering why he wasn't lying eviscerated on the floor yet.

"Come on," the man said calmly, crooking a finger at him and disappearing back into the room next to the kitchen.

Castiel wandered into the dining room, feeling like a teenager sitting in the principal's office as he took the chair that Crowley pulled out for him and looked at the stack of glossy pictures on the table in front of him with studied disinterest.

There were twelve pictures and as he flipped through the pile he realized that whatever paparazzi had taken them must have been following him since they left Dean's bar. The series started with him being dragged out of the side door of the club, holding hands with the other man as he led them towards the Impala and continued on showing him sitting low in the seat as Dean smiled over at him, sitting closer when they had slowed down for that woman waiting to cross the street, him pressed up close to Dean looking like he was whispering in the other man's ear, Dean kissing him at the red light there were a couple of those, and again in front of his apartment complex.

He blinked away the tears in his eyes and shoved the pictures away angrily. Castiel knew it, had felt the eyes on him when they had left the club, but that hadn't stopped him from acting the way he did. It had just felt so natural to be affectionate to the other man, to show Dean how much he wanted him, that he thought the gorgeous bartender was smart and funny and everything Castiel had always been looking for but never found.

"Well?" Crowley asked looking at his nails with a bored expression on his face.

"Well what?" Castiel snapped taking a drink of his coffee and relishing at the way it burned his throat on the way down. He deserved to be hurting.

"You don't want to ask who knows about this? If I've taken care of it?"

"I just assumed you've taken care of it, Crow. That's your job after all. Making sure my fuck ups don't reach my adoring fans."

"Is that what this was? A fuck up?" Crowley seemed shockingly cavalier about the whole thing and Cas tried not to think about how much it had cost him to keep his little indiscretion on the down low.

He nodded bitterly, feeling like his Big Mac from earlier was going to come right up because his head was screaming that it wasn't true, Dean wasn't a fuck up and last night was something he wouldn't, couldn't just shut away and hide from the light of day like all of the other things about him Crowley had decided that the American public wouldn't care to know about him.

"Good. So you aren't going to do anything stupid, like make some grand highly publicized romantic gesture to some sodding pretty boy in Silicon Valley without consulting with me? I know how you have a flair for the dramatic, James."

Castiel shook his head again and stared down at the table, feeling utterly defeated and drained.

"Excellent, now that this ugly business is behind us. The phone interview with People. Universal did a press release this morning about the movie and cited you as having signed on as Guy Haines so I guess that means they found someone scarier to play Bruno. They will be wanting to talk to you about the remake and where you think Roche is going to take the movie since it's his first big American film."

"Can we talk about this later?" he sighed, taking his glasses off and rubbing at his temples. "I'm just really tired and I need a shower. I can't…deal with all of this right now."

"You're going to have to deal with it eventually, Jimmy-boy." Crowley replied impatiently, pulling out his phone and tapping away at the keys in an agitated way.

He looked up at Castiel, noticing how red his eyes were and how ashen his skin looked. His client had dark circles under his eyes and the laugh lines that were part of what made photographers swoon when he did promo shoots and auditions had deepened and changed into a frown that looked utterly horrid. No, he couldn't have his star be seen out and about looking miserable. Crowley waved an impatient hand at Castiel and got up to move to a more comfortable seat in the living room.

"Go on then," he said tersely. "But be quick about it, the girl from People is supposed to call by four."

Castile trudged up the stairs and into his bedroom, pausing long enough in the darkened space to strip out of the rest of his clothes before he made his way over to the ensuite bathroom and the large steam shower he had splurged on when he remodeled the year before.

The hot water poured down on him and he looked dumbly at the rows of fancy shampoos and body washes that Crowley had his housekeeper buy for him, stuff that was meant to make his hair look straight or shiny or manageable depending on what he had to do that day. He wistfully longed for the days when all he had was a bar of Irish Spring and a tepid spray of water from a calcium clogged shower head when he still lived in Boston and his life was simple.

Maybe if he had met Dean there then he could've stayed, and then the next time the other man would've come to his old apartment, the one with the crazy Italian landlady and the exposed brick walls and they could eat bagels and lox from that deli around the corner that he liked and Dean would've come to see him in the plays he did back then, brought him flowers or chocolate or something cheesy like that that boyfriends did for each other and met him backstage to surprise him.

He thought of his old theater as he washed away the traces of his night with Dean, of how he had a private dressing room that was small and smelled vaguely of fish sticks; how it was there that Crowley had found him after he got that amazing review in The Boston Globe for playing Hamlet in an updated version that was directed by that kid who had dropped out of Harvard. Things would have been so different if it had been someone else or Dean coming back to congratulate him instead the Scottish talent agent come to offer him the deal of a lifetime.

Castiel ran a hand over his neck and thought of Dean, of the shy kiss that the other man had given him in the hallway of the club. That had been the moment when he had decided say fuck everything and act exactly like his gut was telling him to. He thought about everything that they had done together, everything they wouldn't get a chance to do together and not for the first time he wondered if all of this, the house, the fame, the money was a fair trade for the fact that he would have to pretend to be something he wasn't for the rest of his life. That he would never get a chance to be truly happy or have someone he could bring home to his parents or someone he could start a family with.

God he was such a girl!

But he stepped out of the bathroom with a new resolve. He may not be in control of his life, but he could do something to make up for being such an asshole to the one fucking person who had managed to make him feel something since moving to this fake fucking place.

He picked up his phone and pulled up the web browser, not bothering with doing more than putting on a fresh pair of boxers since he knew Crowley would burst in on him if he chose to whether he was dressed or not. After finding the number he was looking for he crept over to the door way and peaked down the hall, he could hear his agent's voice floating up from the living room, Crowley sounded angry about something so he better do this quick before the other man stormed up the stairs in one of his famous rages.

Castiel was so scared that Crowley would come in and hear what he was doing that he snapped at the woman taking his order a couple of times, feeling guilty when she was only trying to be helpful.

"No. No." He said trying to make himself calm down, his heart was thudding in his chest and he had his back pressed against his bedroom door, knowing that it wouldn't do much to deter Crowley if he tried to come in the room. "I don't care what kind they are. No, I don't know the recipient's favorite color. It's for a man so I don't know…make it something a guy would like."

" _Sir,"_ the woman said softly to him, Cas felt like she could tell how difficult this was for him. Like she knew that he had no idea what he was doing _. "Maybe you should do an edible arrangement. That's what our male customer's typically send to their friends—"_

"He's not my friend." Castiel blurted, he felt like he was going to have a panic attack if this call lasted much longer. "He's…I don't know what he is. Can you just send the biggest one? It doesn't matter how much it costs. I don't know his address, but I can tell you where he works."

" _The biggest one?"_

"Yea. The biggest bundle or bunch or whatever it's called. I want it to be so big that it fills up the entire delivery van. Two people are going to have to carry it; can you do something like that?"

" _And money is no object?"_ The woman asked incredulously.

"Whatever it costs, I'll pay it."

" _Alright then."_ The woman said and Castiel thought that she sounded amused, maybe she was. He probably sounded like some love-struck teenager trying to get the head cheerleader to go to prom with him. _"And what would you like the card to say, sir?"_

He shook his head, closing his eyes and moving swiftly to his discarded pants so that he could get his credit card. "No card. He'll know who it's from."

" _Okay, sir. Will that be Visa or Mastercard?"_

When he went back downstairs, fully dressed in a pair of comfortable jeans and old grey AC/DC shirt that had stretched quite a bit around the collar, Castiel felt pretty proud of himself. He wasn't a jerk, America could keep thinking he was this nice, unassuming bachelor and he would be able to sleep at night knowing that Dean didn't hate him. Everything was going to work out.

Crowley waved at him from the living room couch, pointing at the phone in his hand and mouthing 'People' at him excitedly. He patted the seat next to him on the couch and handed over the phone to Castiel once he had settled onto the overstuffed leather upholstery.

"Hello," he said. This was going to be the interview that changed everything for him.

" _Mr. Collins! Congratulations are in order; we were so excited to hear about your new project over here at People."_ The voice was high, sincere and feminine.

Castiel immediately began to feel at ease, he was much better at phone interviews than he was with face to face stuff. Behind the scenes commentary, the stuff that no one ever saw unless it was on a special release DVD, that's where he really shined. He could be all silly because he knew that the people who would bother to watch deleted scenes and bloopers were the ones who really cared about the characters he played.

"Thank you and please call me Jimmy."

Crowely gave him a thumbs up and went towards the kitchen. He returned ten minutes later with two glasses of scotch on the rocks and carefully set one down in front of Castiel.

"No, Ms. Rosen…alright, Becky. I don't think that Balthazar Roche intends to stick verbatim with Hitchcock's original script, from what I've seen of the rewrites so far it's going to be more of a modern retelling of the story."

Castiel laughed warmly into the phone and Crowley allowed himself to relax for the first time since the younger man had stopped returning his texts the night before.

"Oh, I'm really terrible at tennis so I hope they don't keep that as Guy's profession. I can bowl, but I don't think that's quite as glamorous. No, I have no idea who they have cast as Bruno yet. Ideally? I would love to work with Zachary Quinto, but I think he may be busy with other projects."

" _Have you heard the rumors that they may change the sex of Bruno's character? Rewrite the script to be more romance driven."_

"I had not heard that," Castiel said shooting Crowley a worried look. "It would be interesting to see how they worked that. And the possibilities for a woman who could play a female Bruno would be much different. Any woman who could convincingly strangle another person would be someone who I would be frankly intimidated to meet."

" _Supposedly, Naomi Tapping has been approached with the role."_

"Naomi Tapping?" Castiel said with a nervous laugh and Crowley shifted back into agent mode, pulling out his cell phone and striding out of the room growling threats and questions to some quaking assistant somewhere that would eventually crack and give him all of the answers he was looking for. "Now I really am frightened. But in all seriousness, if that is the route that Balthazar chooses to go with the film then I will gladly follow his brilliant direction to the ends of the earth."

" _Well, thank you Jimmy. It's been a real pleasure talking to you. I think I have everything I need for the article. It should come out in the next couple of weeks."_

"Thank you, Becky. Yes. Have a good evening."

Castiel ended the call and was immediately up off of the couch and searching through the house for his agent. He found Crowley in the garden, yelling into his second phone and kicking at his azalea bush in frustration.

"Well, if Roche gets off of his high sodding horse at all have him call me or he may just lose his leading man. Yea, well I don't care if Mr. Collins has signed every damn contract between here and Tokyo, he will not be working with that jumped up, conniving bitch!"

"Take a breath, Crow." Cas said putting up his hands and approaching the other man slowly.

Crowley gave him a disgusted look, but did as the smaller man said, taking a deep calming breath and letting it out slowly as his shoulders fell in defeat. "Of all of the women they could chose, why does it have to be her?"

Castiel didn't have an answer for that. He didn't know the whole story about what had gone on with Naomi and his agent, but when Crowley found him doing civic theater in Boston the other man had only just gotten his reputation in L.A. back in good enough standing that he could take a chance on a nobody like Castiel. The actress had left him to join one of the bigger talent agencies and less than six months later she was announcing her engagement to one of the most popular actors in the country, Gabriel Novak.

Their highly publicized divorce less than six months later had made her a leper and most of America thought that she was more evil than Natalie Portman when she had cheated with that director from Black Swan. But she was a good actress, well-known for being high maintenance and terrorizing the other people she worked with with her outrageous demands. Castiel figured that this was karma being alarmingly astute after Dean predicting that he would be working with a high strung diva.

"I don't have to do the movie," Castiel offered. He knew it was a lie and so did Crowley, this was it. His project.

"Do the damn movie," Crowley said making his way back through the house and towards the garage.

Castiel followed him, feeling like he should say something else. Offer his friend some kind of wisdom about women being fickle, loving and leaving 'em, but he didn't know any and while he had never asked for explicit information about his manager's love life he was pretty sure that kind of advice didn't apply to this situation.

He watched as Crowley pulled out of his driveway in his red Aston Martin, that car was the man's pride and joy and Castiel had often thought over the years of their weird symbiotic friendship that it was probably the most meaningful relationship his manager was ever going to have with another thing.

Once the other man was gone, he went back into the house and tried to find something to cook for dinner. Twenty minutes later he gave up and ordered pizza, settling down on his living room couch with a beer and Tivo. His guilty pleasure was True Blood and he had fallen way behind over the last couple of months leading up to sweeps week, doing lost of guest appearances on popular television shows and trying to get his name out there more per Crowley's advice.

For what felt like the millionth time that day, he thought about Dean. What he was doing at that moment. Was he working tonight? What was he going to think about Castiel's apology? Did he feel as torn up about all of this as he did?

Castiel knew that sometimes he read too much into things, but the way Dean had held him and asked him to stay, well it had just felt too sincere. Since moving to California, Crowley had indulged him a couple of times, called in a few favors to get a guy sent over to the house, someone discreet and good-looking. Someone he would've been estatic to spend the night with when he was still in college, but this last time he had realized it just wasn't about the sex anymore. The sex was nice, great even. But Cas wanted something more.

He let the house get dark around him. Ignored the star-struck eyes of the delivery girl, ate his pizza alone and drowned his feelings for Dean in beer. When he cried during some stupid, silly moment between Sookie and Bill he figured that it was probably time to go to bed and he trundled off to his room leaving a mess behind him in the living room that he would deal with in the morning. He collapsed into the mattress, wishing it smelled like something other than the expensive eco-friendly laundry detergent his housekeeper used and only noticed his phone going off silently on his bedside table because the light was so blinding in the darkness of his room.

"James," Crowley said sounding pleased with himself. "I've got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"

"Bad." He groaned into the phone.

"Okay, Tapping has been approached for a role in the movie so we're going to have to swallow our pride and kiss her ass just like everyone else."

"What's the good?'

"Roche has picked a location, we'll be going back to the bay area in a month to start shooting."

"Where?" He asked sitting straight up in his bed, the affects of the beers he had drank seeming faraway and insignificant.

"Well, he'll be using the BART for the train scenes so I'm assuming San Francisco."

Castiel almost dropped the phone in surprise, he cleared his throat and ended the call quickly, agreeing that it was good that they would start filming so soon and telling Crowley he was heading to bed.

A mixture of relief and fear washed through him, something out there was giving him a second chance, fate was bringing him back to Dean. The next time he saw him he was going to make sure he got to say goodbye.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So again I knocked this out fairly quickly since I got such a positive response from the first chapter. I thought I'd give you some back story before we got into the meat of the story.  
> Unbeata'd and all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Special bonus points goes to whoever can figure out which movie Cas is going to be doing, no cheating and looking up stuff!


	3. Chapter 3

Dean had passed out halfway through Titanic and about two thirds of the way through his emergency stash of whiskey. It was probably for the best since he had started alternating between the coffee he had bought and the alcohol when he decided that he needed to watch something sappy and wanted to feel the numbness the stiffer drink provided while also staying awake so that he could keep wallowing in his misery and replaying his encounter with Castiel over and over in his head so that he could try to figure out where everything had gotten all turned around.

He was usually the one running out on his dates and as a rule he never ever brought guys back to his apartment. Not because he was embarrassed of his humble abode or anything, he had tried to make it as comfortable as possible and all of the small personal touches he put into the space made it feel like home. It was because of that one time back in Kansas when Sam was still doing undergrad work and Dean had brought a guy named Alistair, or at least he had said that's what his name was, home and proceeded to get the shit beat out of him when he wouldn't do of the kinkier things the other man had wanted to do in the bedroom.

Dean had been so scared that the other man would come back and finish the job after he had been released from the hospital with six stitches on his forehead, a black eye, bruising on his ribs, and instructions from the doctor that he needed to try to stay awake for a couple of more hours in order to make sure there was no serious brain damage. Sam had been the one to find him on the floor of their living room next to the coffee table and the older Winchester had only fuzzy memories of his brother's panicked face and worried voice, but it was enough that he broke their lease early and moved them into a small, dingy apartment across town that had bad insulation and a leak in the ceiling in order to make sure the other man didn't get the idea that he could come back and try to talk his way back into Dean's good graces.

So, he really didn't know what about Cas had made him dumb enough to bring the other man back to his house instead of suggesting that they go to the other man's place or get a hotel or do anything that wouldn't put in him a position to get left or hurt again.

It was around the time that he had admitted that the whole thing with Castiel was doomed from the start that he decided to watch Titantic. Something about seeing two other people up on the screen who would never get a chance to have a real relationship resonated with Dean when he was feeling like this and even though he hated Celine Dion, Leonardo DiCaprio was still hot and everyone else on that ship had it worse than him so he should get his shit together and get up and leave the house. It was stupid that he was so upset about a one night stand that with someone who he didn't know anything about.

Beyond the fact that Castiel was a gorgeous, funny totally out of his league and unattainable movie producer with the most intense blue eyes he had ever seen and Dean couldn't stop thinking about how when the other man had touched him it had felt like his skin was on fire in the most amazing way possible and when they had kissed it had been enough to make him forget about any other man he had ever been with.

The alcohol overwhelmed Dean right around the time that Jack and Rose were slumming it with the immigrants in the lower decks which was a real shame because it was his favorite part. When he woke up later it was to the sounds of band playing as they went down with the ship, but that wasn't what jerked him out of his alcohol induced slumber. It was his cell phone going vibrating against his temple from where it was pressed between his face and the drool covered couch cushion he had collapsed upon.

He sat up and rubbed at his face where it was stinging from being pressed against the hard plastic of his phone for so long. Dean glanced at the illuminated screen and bit back a groan when he saw that it was Meg.

"Hello," he sighed into the phone as he ran a hand over his face, the numbness of the alcohol making his brain feel detached from the rest of his body.

" _Dean!"_ His manager barked at him through the phone sounding irritated and out of breath. _"First, you're a total whore. Ditching work for the first pretty boy with a chisled jaw to bat his eyelashes at you. For shame, Winchester."_

"Who told you?"

" _Jess did, she got worried when you wouldn't return her texts this morning and Jo managed to convince her you had run off with some very good looking serial killer. Girl's got a twisted sense of humor, that one."_ Meg replied as Dean heard something clatter in the background and the girl swore. " _Ow! Fucking shit's heavy."_

"What are you doing?" Dean asked standing up and moving to the kitchen for a bottle of water, something to cut the whiskey in his system and make him feel less like a zombie.

" _That's the second thing I called about,"_ Meg said before breaking into a sing-song voice. _"You got something pretty."_

"Come again?"

" _Well, if you bothered answering any of the messages I sent you or I don't know telling me you weren't going to bother sticking around after work for waffles then you would already have a picture of what got delivered to the bar for you this afternoon. But since I'm punishing you, you're just going to have to wait and see. And also meet me downstairs in your lobby in about ten minutes to help me carry this monster up to your apartment."_

"Fine," Dean grunted, his curiosity getting the better of him.

He hung up the phone and looked at the digital numbers on the clock on his oven as he nursed his water. Dean felt pretty horrible, maybe he shouldn't have acted liked such a girl and inhaled all of that whiskey, that bottle was for things like getting fired or someone dying or Baby breaking down on the side of the road. Not for things like falling for someone he didn't know the first thing about only to get left high and dry in the morning. Apparently he couldn't handle getting jilted very well.

Dean splashed some water on his face at the kitchen sink in an effort to help himself not look so much like death warmed over before he shoved his boots back on and headed down towards the lobby, clomping down the stairs heavily and grumbling to himself about how his landlord was too cheap to get the elevator fixed yet.

He arrived at the foot of the stairs in enough time for him to see Meg's sporty red Mustang pull into her favorite parking spot under the palm trees that lined the edge of the parking lot of Dean's apartment complex. Dean ran a hand through his hair when he saw his reflection cast in the glass doorway of the lobby and sighed when it just made his hair look worse than before when it had just been flat on one side of his head instead of unevenly fluffy like it was now. He wandered out the door and over to his friend's car, the loud rock music muffled from where he could hear it through her closed windows before the sound abruptly cut out and the small woman climbed out of the car.

"I had to put it in the trunk," Meg stated smiling widely at Dean as she pushed the button on her key ring that made the rear hatch click open. "I couldn't get the seats to move forward far enough get it in the back."

Dean's brow furrowed as he followed his friend as she lifted the lid of her trunk to reveal a springy, jumbled mass of blue, purple, and dark red flowers mixed arranged in a large rectangular vase with dark green foliage peppered in liberally. It was beautiful without being overly feminine or making him feel like they were sent out of pity. Because it was obvious who they were from, there was only one person who dean could think of that would have any reason to send him something so wonderful.

"The man who delivered it said it was going to be bigger, but they couldn't find a container to make it as massive as the guy had asked for it to be. Still, it's heavy as hell so you're carrying that up all of those stairs mister and then you're making me dinner for being nice enough to bring it over for you instead of stealing it for myself like Jo wanted to do."

"Fucking devil's advocate." Dean muttered in a small voice because he was trying to not get his hopes up. "Is there a card?"

Maybe the whole thing had just been a misunderstanding, maybe Cas just had an early morning meeting or something that he had to get to and yea, it was a Saturday, but movie people did that right? Meetings over brunch and stuff like that. Maybe the other man had always meant to stay in touch with Dean and he had just gotten worked up over nothing.

"No card," Meg said pulling out her pack of cigarettes and tapping them against the palm of her hand absently.

"Are you sure?" he asked because surely Cas sent him a card, even if it just had a phone number on it, it would still be more than the note that had been left for him that morning.

"Nope. Trust me, I asked. I was as curious about your mystery admirer as everyone else at the bar. But grab that so that we can get upstairs and you can tell me all about your blue-eyed boy crush."

"How did you know what co—"

"Jo," Meg interrupted blandly. "Seriously, that girl is the font from which all knowledge springs."

Dean hefted the bouquet and followed the smaller woman as she began the ascent to his apartment, by the second floor he was starting to get a little winded and by the time they reached his front door he was panting and sweating and he was pretty sure he smelled like a brewery now that the alcohol was beginning to work its way out of his system.

"God, Dean." Meg said opening the door for him and crinkling her nose as he shoved past her to quickly set the heavy flower arrangement down. "You're more out of shape than I thought. Maybe you should join a gym. Lots of guys hook up at gyms."

Dean flexed his fingers, looked at the red marks that the vase had left on his arms and gave his friend a withering look. "I don't want to hook up with some meat head from a gym, Meg."

"Oh, that's right. How could I forget about your nerd kink?!" Meg said rolling her eyes sarcastically and plopping down ungracefully onto Dean's couch. "Jess said this one was finally seemed like he might be good enough for you, what's his name?"

"Castiel," Dean muttered moving to sit next to his friend and trying not to look at the flowers because it just made him feel cheap and hopeful all at the same time.

All of his emotions about the other man were so conflicted because he just wished that he had had a little bit more time with Cas, but now he didn't know because if he was anything like Dean had been when he had been ditching hookups without a single thought to who might get hurt by him then maybe the other man wasn't worth trying to find. But the flowers, those proved that Castiel was thinking about him, in a good way probably and that made it hard for Dean to try to just forget what had happened the night before.

"Weird name," the woman replied, reaching out a foot to nudge at the mostly empty whiskey bottle that was still sitting on Dean's coffee table with the pointed toe of one of her boots. "I'm guessing the night didn't end like you hoped it would?"

"It ended just fine," he said leaning his head over onto Meg's shoulder having to slouch down a bit to get low enough for the position to be comfortable.

"Do tell." Meg implored roguishly.

Dean shook his head and sighed heavily. "Let's just say I asked him to stay."

"Whoa."

"Yeah."

"No, like seriously. Whoa." Meg said patting Dean comfortingly on his hand. "You brought him back here, which you never ever do, and then you asked him to stay the night. Guy must have been a real looker."

"God, Meg. He was soooo good looking. I don't think I've ever seen someone that handsome in real life."

"Bullshit, Benjamin Bratt came into the bar the other day and that guy is a total DILF with a 'Y'." Meg joked, nudging Dean in the side softly with her elbow.

"With a 'Y'?" Dean asked trying not to get distracted but unable to stop himself from asking.

"Dad You'd Like to Fuck, too much testosterone for me, thank you. But I know you like your guys all sharp angles and secret strong. So I'm guessing your boy Friday was probably all cheekbones and jawline and sticky outty hair, right?"

The man buried his face in his hands and groaned at how well his friend knew him. "His eyes. They were so blue and I thought I was going to fall into them and drown and it would've been the best thing to ever happen to me."

"J2 told me that he had glasses and a suit too, so this guy sounds like he was pretty much your dream man. What went wrong?"

"I think I came on too strong," Dean admitted sitting up and wrapping his arms around himself. "I told him I couldn't get enough of him and asked if he had a boyfriend. Maybe he wasn't looking for something serious."

"And you are?" Meg asked picking up the whiskey bottle and moving to put it back in the kitchen. The smaller woman grabbed a soda out of the fridge and ambled back to the couch, stopping long enough to lean on the back of the couch and pull her boots off with a loud sigh.

"I dunno," he said with a shrug. "Maybe if I found the right person. I'm almost thirty, Meg. How much longer can I keep picking up guys at clubs before I'm that weird old manther hitting on pretty, young models and going home alone every night?"

"Holy shit, I never thought I would live to see the day when Dean Winchester was ready to settle down."

"Well, don't go writing your will just yet, lady friend. I went to get coffee for me and Cas this morning and when I got back he was gone."

"Gone. Like disappeared without a trace gone or he died in your apartment and this conversation is taking a really weird turn gone."

"The first one, buttface." Dean snapped. "He had just left, didn't even leave a number or anything. Just a note thanking me for a great night, like it was just another one night stand. To him it probably was."

"No," Meg said jumping back up and heading for the man's bedroom where she knew he kept his laptop. "I'm not going to let you be all mopey over this. Ugh! Dean, have you been drunk all morning?"

The last part she called from inside of his bedroom and Dean couldn't help but think that was really dumb question for her to ask because she had just taken away his alcohol, like a mom taking away their kid's Halloween candy when it became obvious that they couldn't control themselves around it.

"Pretty much." He called to her.

"Well, at least change your sheets or something before you go to sleep because that is gross." Meg grumbled as she returned to the couch and set Dean's computer down on the coffee table, quickly tapping the power button and cracking her knuckles while she waited for the screen to light up. "Men and your body fluids. Ick."

"Girls have body fluids too," Dean grumbled as he felt his face heat up. He hadn't really been too concerned about what state his bed might be in after his night with Castiel.

"How would you know, Liberace?"

"Sam's told me."

"Now that's just disturbing. You and your brother really do share way too much." Meg pulled up Dean's web browser and quickly navigated to Google. "Now if you had to guess, how do you think Castiel is spelled?"

"Um, C-A-S-T-E-A-E-L? Maybe? Why are you asking?"

"I'm going to search for him on the internet and we're going to find his Facebook or some way to get in touch with him and you're going to find out what happened."

"That's creepy, Meg. Don't do that. It's like stalking." Dean said quickly sitting up and reaching for the computer so that he could stash it somewhere the smaller woman couldn't get to it. On top of his fridge should be high enough to do the trick.

"It's only stalking if you go through all of his pictures and start photo shopping your face onto his old boyfriend's body. What we're doing is research. Harmless research like for school." Meg responded using her body to shield the computer from the larger man. "Did you get a last name, Casanova or were you too busy thinking with you lower brain to bother with incidentals?"

"Krushnic." Dean spat out at her, giving up because really he was just imagining what it would be like to see Castiel again and he didn't know why he hadn't thought of doing this sooner.

"Oooh, foreign. That will help. How many Castiel Krushnic's can there be in the world?"

"Better exclude Russia from your search or we'll be at this all night," Dean muttered anxiously, getting up from his spot on the couch and starting towards the kitchen to try to find something to cook for dinner because he was warring between snapping the computer shut and pushing Meg out of the way so he could do the search himself.

He listened to tapping keys of the other woman and tried not to keep glancing over at the small glowing screen as she worked. Dean pulled open his fridge and was met with an odd assortment of condiments, enough ingredients to make a couple of omelets, and a large variety of beverages both alcoholic and not. The man let out a frustrated groan and shut the door with probably a little too much force so that he could rake his eyes over the different menus for takeout that were stuck to his fridge with the Lego Star Wars magnets that Sam had shipped to him as part of the older Winchester's birthday present back in January.

Both brothers had been too busy at the time to make the short trip to see each other, with Sam knowing what his graduate school course work was going to be like now that he had one semester under his belt and Dean taking on more hours at the bar so that he could afford the plane ticket he was planning on buying Bobby so the older man could fly out for Sam's birthday in May. Dean wanted to book him a seat in first class, set their former guardian up in a real nice hotel so that he knew that the brother's were doing well even though they were living so far from home and out of Bobby's watchful gaze.

He snatched down the one for a nearby pizza place; it felt like a pizza kind of night and went to sit back down next to Meg. Dean pulled his phone out of the pocket of his pajama pants and dialed in the number, quickly placing an order for a large meat lover's with extra cheese and sauce that the man assured him would arrive in less than thirty minutes or it was free.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news?" Meg asked turning to look at her friend when he got off the phone.

"Give me the bad first, that way the good will seem really good." Dean said sitting facing his friend and crossing his legs underneath him.

"Okay, I lied. It's all kinda bad, but not horrible!" The smaller woman added when she saw how the man's face went from excited to crushed in almost no time at all. "Your mystery man isn't married or anything like that."

"That's not bad."

"No, the bad news is I can't find hardly anything about him online. It's like Castiel Krushnic doesn't exist. All I can find is a super retro Myspace page, which if this is him then the guy has terrible taste in music. Just fucking awful."

Meg turned the computer towards Dean so he could look at the profile picture and it was him. Castiel smiling in what was obviously a photo that he had taken of himself, looking up at the camera with a sheepish smile on his face and wire-rimmed glasses pushed up into his hair on top of his head. The girl was right, the other man's music player was full of weird indie pop songs that put the college alt-rock of the 90s to shame with how trendy it must have been five years ago.

The last status update was from around the same time as the music and simply stated, "Moving to California!" with a little excited emoticon face next to it. It had Castiel's hometown listed as Boston, Massachusetts and suddenly the whole pumpkin obsession made sense to Dean. Cas probably lived for fall in his hometown, when the leaves were changing colors and the weather was getting chilly and people decorated their houses with squash and maize and other pilgrim-type things to celebrate their heritage as one of the first colonies.

"What else did you find?" Dean asked bookmarking the page so that he could look at it later and even though he could admit that the sentiment bordered on stalker he needed to know as much about Castiel as possible so that if nothing else he could form a more complete picture of the other man in his head. Darken the outline of his memories from the night before which were already becoming blurry and abstracted due to the alcohol he had consumed throughout the morning.

"Some old article from the Boston Globe about something he might have done with a production of _Hamlet_. There's no picture so I don't know for sure that it's about him, but the article is dated for around the same time as his last couple of Myspace posts." Meg said pulling up a stub of a review for a play that just hit on the keywords of Castiel's name.

"He said he was a movie producer so maybe he moved here after that and started working in movies." Dean supplied not bothering to look at the article because he already knew what it would say, that Castiel was brilliant and amazing and other people could see it too.

"Well, besides that. I can't find anything else. It's like he disappeared off of the map until you met him last night." Meg gasped dramatically and waved her hands at Dean. "Maybe he's a ghost. Dean, maybe you had sex with a ghost!"

"Ghost sex," Dean said drily, hearing the buzzer go off for his apartment and he moved to grab his wallet so that he could make sure to give the delivery kid a hefty tip for climbing all of those stairs. He always felt so bad for ordering out since the elevator was broken, but at least he didn't live on one of the higher floors. "Ghosts don't exist, Meg. You've been watching too many movies."

"That shit is real, Dean!" Meg exclaimed pointing a finger at him as he waited near the door for the pizza. "There's this web series called _Ghostfacers_ and they literally face the ghosts. You should tell them about your sexy ghost encounter and let them interview you."

"If I tell anyone about what happened with me and Cas last night it's going to be _Penthouse Letters,_ " Dean told the woman, ignoring the amazed look that the delivery boy gave him when he made the comment as he took the food he had ordered out of his hands. The older man gave the teenage boy a wink and shut the door soundly in his face after paying him.

"You just enjoy scarring delivery boys for life don't you?" Meg asked giggling as Dean grabbed plates and drinks for them before he joined her back on the couch.

"I don't answer my door topless," Dean retorted, sprinkling a hefty portion of parmesan cheese onto his pizza slices.

"That was one time," the woman beside him complained, getting up to peruse Dean's DVD collection for something to watch, snatching down the latest season of _Dr. Sexy M.D._ and jumping around a bit as she held it up for her friend's approval. "I know what will make you forget about ghost boy."

Dean hadn't watched the seventh season yet, but he had made a point to go out and buy it as soon as it had hit the shelves. The primetime medical drama was pretty much the only series he followed religiously and he had been watching it since it had first come out when he and Sam were still living with Bobby.

"He's not a ghost, Meg." Dean stated though it almost felt like Castiel was something insubstantial and ethereal.

Their encounter seemed more and more unreal as he continued to think about it, but he had proof that the other man existed. Maybe he was just living off of the grid like Dean's high school buddy Ash, but if he was trying to avoid someone then he was doing a pretty poor job of it by going out to bars and working in film. He couldn't help glancing back at the bouquet of flowers that were still sitting on his kitchen counter and he smiled when he thought of the how perfect they were, not too garish or out there. Just like Cas, the blue flowers even kinda reminded him of the other man's eyes.

"Oh this is serious," Meg said pulling an exaggerated frowny face and scooping up the other six seasons of the television show, dumping them in a heap on the floor in front of Dean's television and DVD player. "You're totally hung up on this guy. That means a marathon!"

"Meg, that's like a week's worth of watching TV and that's if we don't eat or sleep or shower."

"So we'll do it in small chunks, starting with season seven because I know I missed some episodes around the time that Dr. Sexy broke up with that one foxy redheaded nurse. I liked her, what a dumb way to die by the way—"

"NO!" Dean yelled, throwing a parmesan packet at his friend to shut her up. "Spoilers! We can watch that season first, now that I know that she dies. Thanks troll."

"Yay!" Meg said happily sliding in the first DVD and settling back down on the couch with the remote. "Plus if we work our way backwards then all of our favorite side characters come back to life and Dr. Sexy gets younger and younger."

"So we're going to start with the last episode of season seven?" Dean asked slightly confused by his friend's logic.

"No, we'll watch season seven, then six, and go back until Dr. Sexy is back together with that other hot redhead he was dating in the beginning of the series, back when they were still on HBO and you got to see boobs every now and then."

"You're like a teenage boy, Meg."

"Well one of us has to be," the smaller woman said with a shrug as the opening strains of the show's theme song drifted out over Dean's television speakers. "The real crime was when they got canceled and picked back up by fucking NBC."

"Yea," Dean agreed. "This ain't _The Office,_ this is Dr. freaking Sexy."

"Thank you! Ain't nobody got time for that."

"You're so dumb."

"Then makes you dumber," Meg said sticking her tongue out at other man before they both turned back to the TV when they heard the tell-tale sound of a staged slap.

The pair made it completely through the seventh season and even though Dean liked to watch the commentary, he couldn't talk Meg into staying long enough to sit through it with him so they agreed to get together again on Monday to watch the sixth season together, only this time Meg had to cook because Dean had no intention of going grocery shopping anytime soon. He walked with Meg down to her car and gave the smaller woman a hug.

"You're going to be okay, right?" The woman asked giving Dean a concerned look. "I mean it's not like the guy was your soul mate or anything right?"

"I don't know," Dean replied swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. "I know it was just one night, but it felt like maybe it could be more. I just wish I had a way to see him again."

"Well, maybe things will work out. Y'know karma and all of that bullshit. Good things happen to good people."

"So you're saying I'm never going to see him again, thanks."

"No, I'm saying that you deserve to have something good happen to you. So don't give up the ghost, Dean. Maybe he'll show up again."

"I swear to god, Meg, if you keep calling Cas a ghost, it's going to drive me crazy."

The smaller woman quirked an eyebrow at him and got into her car. After she started the ignition she cracked her window enough to sing the first couple of lines of the Ghostbusters theme song to him before cackling madly and peeling out of the parking lot.

When Dean made it back to his apartment, he snatched up his laptop on his way to his bedroom. He took his friend's advice and changed the sheets on his bed, but chose to keep the mismatched pillowcases on because they still smelled faintly like Castiel and he really wasn't ready to give that up yet. He propped his laptop up on the bed beside him and pulled back up the other man's old myspace page.

"Night, Cas." Dean murmmered softly, running a finger over the old picture of Castiel.

It felt so silly and pathetic to be talking to his computer, but it made him feel better. Like maybe if he talked to Cas when he wasn't there then the other man would still be able to hear him somehow, like angels could when you said a prayer, and he would know that Dean was still thinking about him. That their short time together meant something more to him than just a random, meaningless hookup and even though it was creepy as hell Dean felt like he would sell his soul if it meant he could just see the other man one more time and tell him about the feelings that he couldn't quite name.

Dean's last thought before he drifted off was of the flowers the other man had sent him and how it meant that the other man was thinking of him too. That had to be good for something, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everybody! Chapter 3! It only took me two weeks to write it, but yay! Let me know if there's something you would like to see or what you think. All feedback is good feedback!


	4. Chapter 4

Two weeks felt like they had never taken longer and even though Castiel was busy with round table read-throughs of the new script and making strategic appearances out in public, doing domestic little things like grocery shopping or going out to brunch with his friend Patrick to meet his new girlfriend, catching up with other more well-known celebrities in areas where the paparazzi who were curious to get an eyeful of the small-time actor who had managed to land the leading role in Balthazar Roche's new film, with the infamous Naomi Tapping as his love interest, could see him and fuel the rumor mill of who exactly James Collins had to be sleeping with to get such a big project dropped in his lap.

"So, I'm sorry I couldn't make it out for Dave's funeral," Castiel apologized to his friend who was sipping on the mimosa he was drinking.

The other man smiled sadly at the girl next to him who reached out a hand to pat him on the arm before excusing herself to go to the bathroom. The friends watched the girl leave and turned back to look at each other, resolutely ignoring the photographers who were lurking across the patio they were sitting on, kept from entering the restaurant by a purposefully placed hedgerow that was high enough to deter them, but didn't give the actors the privacy that the somber subject they were discussing warranted.

"It's fine, Casti—Jimmy." The younger man replied, catching himself before he used anything other than Castiel's stage name in public. "You were in Boston for the holidays and none of us expected it to happen. It's better that he was at home though, in Salt Lake because his parents and family were there. Juno and I flew out for it; she wanted to meet my parents and be there with me for the visitation."

"She seems really great, Pat." Castiel said earnestly, because even though he knew that the couple wasn't going to be showing off some of her more recent movies to the other man's parents anytime soon probably, the British girl seemed genuinely sweet and he couldn't help but wonder how much of her outlandish personality was just a put on for the people who were constantly watching her as well.

"Yea, she is. Listen man, I'm happy you like her because I'm asking her to move in with me." Patrick replied leaning across the table to whisper to the older man, his shaggy brown hair falling forward into his face as he spoke. "Her lease is up on her flat in a month and instead of her going back to England for a bit, I'm going to ask her to stay."

"That's fantastic!" Castiel exclaimed, moving around the table to wrap the other man in a brotherly hug that had the reporters throwing questions at them across the patio.

"Mr. Fugit! Mr. Collins! What are you celebrating?!"

"Are you collaborating on a project with Ms. Temple!?"

"America wants to know what your favorite soda is, James!"

Patrick shook his head disgustedly at the reporters as Cas went to sit back down and Juno returned, fluffing up her blonde hair and giving the two men a confused look.

"What did you boys get up to while I was gone? You've awoken the peanut gallery," the girl stated eyeing the paparazzi before blowing a kiss at them and settling back happily into the arm that Patrick had draped across the back of her chair.

"We were talking about um…Jimmy what were we talking about again?" Patrick scrambled, pleading with his eyes at the older man to keep quiet about wanting to ask the girl to move in with him.

"Um…San Francisco," Castiel supplied because it was the only thing he could think of, in fact it had been practically the only thing on his mind since finding out where Roche had chosen to shoot the movie. That and Dean and whether or not the other man would want anything to do with him if Cas showed up at his apartment or work. "My agent has rented me a house on the beach to live in while shooting the movie for the next couple of months. I'm going up next week to get settled in. You two should visit, one weekend, it would be nice to have some company in that big empty place. I don't know why Crow thinks I need a six bedroom house for just me, the place is massive."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find someone to fill it," Juno said smirking knowingly at the older man. "I hear people in that city are very friendly."

Cas shot Patrick a frightened look, he had told the younger man about Dean about a week before when he had been feeling overwhelmed with guilt and loneliness. The two of them had gone out to dinner and ended up getting slightly drunk, enough so that Castiel broke down and called Alfie with the car to come and get them, but before the young driver had gotten there he had told his only friend about how he was pretty sure he had messed up the one thing that had made him as happy as acting did since moving to Los Angeles.

The younger man put his hands up in defense, "I didn't tell her, man. I promise."

"Oh, scandal." The woman crowed, taking a dainty bite of the crepes she was eating and crinkling her nose a bit at the look on Castiel's face. "Relax, James. Patrick didn't spill your little secret, sometimes a woman just knows. Anyway, I am quite likely to be the last person who will judge you based on who you sleep with. I bet he's absolutely delicious, whoever he is."

"Can you keep your voice down?" Cas hissed desperately, there was no way the paparazzi could hear him, but he didn't want to think about Crowley finding out that he was out bragging about sleeping with another man when he was supposed to be the country's next George Clooney, swoon-worthy serial bachelor extraordinaire.

"Of course darling, I'm not touched, y'know." Juno quipped waving her fork around abstractedly. "You Americans with all of your hang-ups about sexuality. Do your parents know about your closet drama?"

"Yes," he replied lowly, looking around at the other diners like they were about to shove a microphone in his face. Castiel reached up to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose before remembering that he was wearing the contacts that Crowley forced on him anytime he was going where paparazzi could see him and dropping his hand back into his lap with a resigned sigh.

"Then why do you have to hide, if people don't want to see something you're in just because you happen to like a cock up your arse then they will be missing out on a lot of fantastic films. _The Avengers_ , that wouldn't have been nearly as popular if all of you actors could just fuck who you wanted."

"Are you always this crass?" Castiel asked, his calm demeanor betrayed by how his hand shook with pent up frustration as he reached for his own champagne flute.

"Let's just say its part of my charm," the woman said picking up her glass quickly and clinking it against Cas's with a wink. "Anyway, I for one would love to visit you in San Francisco. What do you say, love? One last hurrah before I go back to dreary old England?"

"Anything you want, babe." Patrick laughed, poking at Juno's nose with the tip of his finger and shrugging at the sour look that was still on his friend's face.

* * *

"DEAN, GET THE FUCK UP!" Jo shouted, pulling on the blanket that he had wrapped himself up in like a cocoon and kicking at his mattress, her pony tail bouncing as she moved. "We're going to be late for the movie and you promised you would do this with me!"

It had been three weeks since his encounter with Castiel and after searching for the other man, pouring over San Francisco phonebooks, doing some random calls to a couple of the area production companies to see if they had an amazing handsome producer on their payroll, and obsessively going through the guest list for the VIP section at the bar for that night, he hadn't been able to find anything. Meg had said he was a ghost and maybe she was right, maybe Castiel wasn't even his real name. For all Dean knew the old Myspace page was something the other man had used for hookups five years ago, a fake persona that fed into the lies he told guys he slept with, only to abandon it when Facebook and dating websites became more commonplace.

So he had started to give up, lock away the memories of that night so that they would remain untarnished and perfect as he became more and more bitter about the whole thing and moved on. He had agreed to doubling on a blind date with Jo a couple of days before when Jess had backed out saying that she had some campaign to shoot for Chrysler that couldn't be rescheduled. Apparently the other guy wasn't too particular about the sex of his own date and that's how Dean had gotten tricked into the whole thing when the two blonde girls had cornered him in the stockroom at the bar and finagled him into going.

They were going to go see some documentary about bees and the environment that sounded like something that Sam would make him watch in order to try to talk him once again into switching to a hybrid car instead of his carbon, spewing Impala. Dean didn't really think it was a date kind of movie, but they were going early and with any luck he would have time to go over to Meg's later so they could start watching Season 2 of _Dr. Sexy_.

"Just stop," He groaned into his pillow, slapping the laptop next to his head shut and shoving it away. "I'm getting up, leave me alone."

Dean had gotten drunk after work the night before and decided that it would be a really good idea to read through everything on Cas's old Myspace page and write comments that the other man would never see on the journal entries that Castiel had written about going to Red Sox games and some poem that Dean only vaguely knew by Walt Whitman.

He trudged out of bed and into the shower, Jo screeching at him the whole time about making an effort and not being a jerk and blah blah blah what the fuck ever. Dean had a headache and he didn't care. Everything just seemed pointless and washed out in comparison to his time spent with Castiel, but he hoped eventually, things would go back to normal and his life would snap back into color like Dorothy stepping out into Oz.

They were going to The Castro Theatre which was near where Jo and Jess lived over in Mission District, but for Dean it was a bit of a drive from where his own small apartment in Marina was, bordered by Presidio Park and the affluent areas of San Francisco with private beaches and houses that were more for show than actually living. The Neighbourhood was situated between their homes, in that weird area where Nob Hill almost bled into Pacific Heights but managed to stay on the more down to earth side of the 101.

Dean debated for a moment about shaving before deciding that beards were a vacation thing and he needed to get rid of his so that bears would stop hitting on him every time he left his apartment. When he walked back into his room he saw that Jo had already picked out some clothes for him which was even freaking better because he could care less how this guy thought he looked, it's not like this date was going to lead anywhere anyway. He tossed on the jeans and grey button down, not even bothering to glance in the mirror as he ran a hand through his hair and decided he was ready.

He refused to ride in Jo's car to the theater because he wanted to be able to make an escape if he felt like he needed one, so they took Dean's Impala and he blasted anything but AC/DC because ever since Cas he just couldn't stomach it anymore. When they pulled up to the theater he spotted the two men waiting outside and immediately knew that Jess had probably never been the one going on this date in the first place.

To be fair, Jo had tried this time, at least with his own date to set Dean up with someone who was closer to his type, not all muscle bound and thick-necked like her own date was hulking over his smaller friend standing next to him. The guy was scruffy and pale and wiry, just liked Dean like his guys, so he tried to muster up some interest as the other man unabashedly checked him out.

"Aaron," the smaller man said sticking his hand out nervously to Dean as Jo threw herself into the arms of the man who Dean was pretty sure was probably distantly related to Andre the Giant.

"Dean," he replied, forcing a smile onto his face and gesturing for the other man to go ahead of him into the theater.

Dean played the part of a gentleman, buying the other man's ticket and concessions and holding doors open so that Jo wouldn't give him hell for not trying later. Once they were settled inside the darkened theater he realized what the girl's plan had been all along as she climbed into her date's lap and proceeded to start making out with him as the previews and opening credits rolled.

Aaron cleared his throat uncomfortably and turned away from the couple, crossing his legs towards Dean and leaning into the armrest separating them. Dean tried to shift away slightly as the smell of the other man's cologne overwhelmed him, making him feel like his throat was closing up and his eyes itch.

"I'm sorry," the other man murmured, reaching out a hand and placing it on Dean's leg as the narrator's deep, soothing voice began echoing over the sound system in the nearly empty auditorium theater. "Judah isn't exactly what you would call subtle."

Dean glanced over at the other man and in the darkness he could almost pretend it was Cas, if he squinted, and the narrator's voice which was reciting different bee related sayings as they flashed across the screen reminded him of the throaty growl of his one-time lover. If Aaron didn't talk, well then Dean supposed that he could pretend for a while that he was who he wanted to be with, that the hand on his leg was the same one that had cupped his face and stroked him to the best orgasm of his life all of those weeks ago.

_'What is not good for the swarm, is not good for the bee. Marcus Aurelius"_

"It's fine," Dean replied softly, putting his own hand over the other man's and imagining that the pale fingers were longer, the nails cropped close and blunt instead of sculpted like Aaron wore his. He ran a thumb over the back of the warm knuckles and resolutely stared back at the screen so that he wouldn't be tempted to look over and have his fantasy shattered.

The documentary was actually really interesting, it talked about how important bees were to the ecosystem and how almost a hundred years ago a scientist predicted that they would start disappearing as cities expanded and technology advanced. When the narrator talked about colony collapse syndrome, the passion in his voice made the breath catch in Dean's chest, he could almost picture Castiel saying those words and how his brow would crease in frustration over how important he felt the topic was, like it had when he had called Dean gorgeous and told him he would stay.

Dean didn't think that Jo came up for air once the entire movie and maybe that was why he let Aaron kiss him as the narrator's voice recited a poem about the confusion of bees disappearing from their homes as the end credits rolled across the screen. Maybe he felt like he owed it to the other man for having to sit through his friend completely ignoring him the entire afternoon just for Dean's sake.

He focused on the words as the other man's beard scratched against his face, on how it wasn't even hard at this point to hear the narrator's voice as Cas's voice, murmuring into his ear as he slept with his head on the other man's chest, promises of the two of them finding each other again and giving it a go because he had felt it too, that stirring fluttering feeling that was almost love when they had kissed.

_'Confusion of the hive,_

_they call it, and the hive dies, each bee goes down,_

_each light goes out, one by one, blinking out all over town,_

_seen from a great height as the night ages, darkens,_

_as you're parked in your car with your own true love,_

_until it's just you two and the stars, until it's just you.'_

Aaron's nose was too big and his kisses were too wet, too sloppy to be anything like it had been when Dean and Castiel had kissed so he pulled away when the house lights came up and smiled at the other man in a way that would make him feel like less of a jerk when he didn't call Aaron back for another date. He decided to keep the number in his phone, just in case he did ever actually move on from wanting something he couldn't have, but for now an easy relationship just didn't seem appealing.

Dean left Jo to fend for herself with Judah and Aaron, deciding that he needed to do something mindless that would make him zone out and forget about all of the memories of Castiel that the movie and familiar voice of the narrator dredged up. Memories he was working hard at trying to bury because they just made him do stupid things like drink away his grocery money like he had the night before. He headed towards Meg's apartment in Union Square, situated close enough to Chinatown that he didn't have to question what the two of them would probably be eating for dinner.

"Honey I'm home," Dean called as he let himself into Meg's place using the spare key she had given him after the third time she drunkenly locked herself out, how he didn't know.

"Bitch, please." The smaller woman said padding from the kitchen with a large mixing spoon in her hand to give Dean a kiss on the cheek. "You wish."

"Not if you're cooking, I don't." Dean said sniffing the air for the smell of something burning, Meg was a terrible chef and everyone at bar joked about how she could ruin a pot of boiling water if she put her mind to it.

"Relax, Winchester. I'm making cookies, but you're here now so I'm pretty sure we can manage to not ruin them if we work together. "

"I guess your date went about as well as mine did," Dean commented, referring to the outting that his manager had the night before with one of their regulars, an intimidating brunette girl named Ruby who always looked slightly strung out to Dean.

"Dude, I walked into the bathroom of the restaurant, okay?" Meg began leading the man to her breakfast nook where he sat on one of the high school she kept at the counter. "And the chick was snorting coke off of the edge of the sink."

"No way!" Dean exclaimed watching closely as his friend slid the cookies into the oven, double checking the temperature before she came to lean across the counter from him. "Mine was just a bad kisser. You sure know how to pick 'em Masters."

"It gets better. So she's doing drugs in the middle of pretty much the nicest restaurant in the financial district, which she picked out I might add, and when she gets done she just offers me a line. Man, I bolted so fast that the maitre'd had to flag me down to give me my purse. But back to yours! Bad kisser? Is it safe to say we're over comrade Krushnic?"

The other man shrugged and looked down at his hands, "We went to see this documentary and the narrator's voice. Meg, I swear to god the guy sounded just like Cas. Everything reminds me of him."

"Well, I guess Dr. Sexy is making a house call tonight to take your mind off of him. Come on," Meg nudged Dean as she passed him on her way to her living room, plopping down into a plush armchair and picking up her remote, queuing up the second season on Netflix via her Playstation. "We're going to have to find you someone to sleep with, Dean, and soon because this whole pining thing is not a good look for you."

"Says the girl who hasn't dated anyone since she got dumped by that British model."

"Bella and I were different," Meg snapped as Dean settled down onto her couch, kicking off his boots and pulling all of the throw pillows under his head. "We dated for two years, Dean. I met her parents, I knew her favorite color, her middle name, fuck I knew her phone number which is more than you can say about Castiel."

The two sat in a tense silence for a couple of moments as the first episode began playing on the screen. Over seven seasons the intro hadn't changed very much, it showed all of the main characters looking suitably well-lit and wind-swept in hospital scrubs with dramatic scenes peppered in until it reached the part where guest star's names flashed along the bottom of the screen and the episodes began in earnest.

Dean heard his friend sniffle and looked over to see Meg surreptitiously wiping tears off of her make-up free face, looking so much younger without the caked on eyeliner and red lipstick she wore to work. He realized that Meg and Jo and Jess were very much like the little sisters he had never wanted and he instantly felt bad for bringing up his friend's past relationship that had ended so unexpectedly and painfully.

"Meg, I'm sorry." He said nudging her arm with his foot. Meg rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms over her chest. "Really, I am. You're right. Cas and I, we weren't anything compared to you and Bella. I need to stop being so stupid about the whole thing. I'll call that guy I went out with tonight, he wasn't that bad of a kisser."

_**'Code Blue in the Emergency Room. All cardiac doctors please report to the area, stat.'** _

The show was still playing in the background and Dean felt like maybe he should be watching because Dr. Sexy could actually get pretty confusing pretty fast if you weren't paying close enough attention. You never knew when you were watching a flashback or if someone got amnesia or just discovered their evil twin. It was what made the show so compelling. But he also needed to make things right with his friend, pretty much his best friend even though his banter with the smaller woman sometimes hit a little too close to home.

"You're not being stupid, Dean." Meg sighed heavily. On the television Dr. Sexy emerged from the elevator into the emergency room even though he was the head of surgery and not specifically cardiac, Dean still felt pretty certain he could handle the whole code blue drama the show had going on. "Just not very realistic. The guy left you, if he liked you in the way you thought he did then he would've stuck around, you're not a hard person to love. It's nothing wrong with you so it has to be something he's got going on, but if you spend the rest of your life waiting around on Cas, who you've built up to be this perfect person in your head, you could miss out on something else. Don't settle, but know that you deserve someone who wants you as much as you want them."

"So I'm not calling the guy from earlier," Dean stated blandly wrapping his arms around his chest.

Dr. Wang, Seattle Mercy Hospital's most prominent and arrogant heart surgeon, stood over the bloodied body of a man, a scalpel clutched in her hand as she barked orders at the nurses and orderlies around her.

_'I need this man's vitals now! And where are the paddles, if he dies it's going to be due to your stupidity, Middleton!'_

Meg grumbled as her favorite nurse burst into tears on the screen and fled from the crowded room, pushing past Dr. Sexy who gazed after her with a look of longing. They had broken up at the end of the first season when his family didn't approve of her Midwestern roots and her night, school diploma.

 _'Wang,'_ Dr. Sexy intoned, moving to stand across the stretcher from the other doctor his cowboy boots ringing out loudly on the tiled hospital floors. _'You want to give me one good reason why you defied my direct orders. I told you to take some time off, get your head on straight. I need a surgeon who is going to save lives, not risk her own by overworking herself. Get out of my hospital, now.'_

 _'I can do this doctor,'_ Wang said shaking her head and exchanging her scalpel in favor of two shock paddles offered to her by another nurse. _'This man shouldn't be going into cardiac arrest, he just fainted while he was driving. You need me here, I'm the only one who can find out what's wrong with him. Let me save him, doctor."_

The male doctor looked down at the body between them, but the camera stayed focused on the inner struggle he was having with letting the female doctor stay. _'We took an oath, Wang. Get on with it!'_

The Asian woman's face settled into a resolved sternness and Dean had never liked the actress, thought she was too uptight and serious, a real buzzkill compared to the rest of the cast. So during her moment of what was sure to be either triumph at saving the man or utter crushing, defeat that she lost another patient because she couldn't think clearly, he decided to get up, rescue the cookies before they turned into hockey pucks, and go order some Chinese food so that he and Meg would have time to eat before they had to head up to the bar in a little under two hours for work.

He was trying to remember if Meg liked moo-shu chicken or pork better when he heard the smaller woman screeching his name from where he had gone into the kitchen to get the number for the restaurant off of the memo pad she had attached to her fridge and a drink.

"DEAN!" Meg shrieked, flailing around for the remote control that she had dropped in her excitement over whatever it was that she had seen on the screen. "Get the fuck in here! Holy shit, Dean you are never going to believe this. Fuck, I don't fucking believe it. Tell me I'm not seeing things here."

"What are you talking about?" He asked scooping up the remote off of the floor and handing it to the woman who was half hanging out of the chair from where she had been stretching to grab it out from underneath the coffee table.

Dean glanced at the screen and tried to be as excited as Meg seemed to be over the fact that Dr. Sexy and Dr. Piccolo were making out on one of the empty beds in the coma ward, again. Maybe this was one of the boob scenes that the smaller woman had been getting all hormonal over since they had gotten back into the HBO seasons with the previous boxset they had watched.

"God, not this. Fuck this." Meg said hurriedly, punching at the buttons until the episode was rewinding back to right around the time Dean had heard his name called.

It was just a couple of seconds of footage, not even enough to really be considered a full scene, and what little light there was was shining mostly on Dr. Wang who was asleep in a chair next to a patient's bed, her head cradled on her arms with one hand holding the limp fingers of the bloodied man that she had been working on in the emergency room.

"Okay," Meg said punching the pause button on the part where you could best see the man's face. "Now tell me if I'm going crazy or something. But isn't that..."

"Cas" Dean whispered, dropping heavily back down on the couch as his knees gave out underneath him.

The other man looked different, younger, more like the picture on his old Myspace page only with painted on dark circles under his eyes and subtle light brown highlights in his hair. He looked smaller and more vulnerable in the hospital gown that he was wearing on the screen and Dean's heart twisted painfully at how realistically sick he looked.

"Dean," Meg said, snapping him out of how he was just dumbly looking at the screen by getting up and placing her hands on his shoulders. "I though you said he was a producer."

"He is. I mean, that's what he told me he did." Dean replied trying to wrap his head around Castiel being a character in one of his favorite TV shows.

"Then why is he on Dr. Sexy, Dean?"

"I don't know, Meg!" he snapped, running a hand through his hair. Did Cas lie to him? Yea, he had been scared that the man had been too good to be true, but he thought that the other man was better than that. That their night together was more than the deceit that made up most of his encounters with other guys. "I just...I don't know, alright. Just...fuck...just play the show or something. Until I figure all of this shit out."

They watched the remaining forty minutes or so of the episode and Cas appeared intermittently in the background, always unconscious and usually just out of focus as the doctor's talked about how he was doing and if he was going to wake up. Dr. Wang was particularly concerned about his well-being, going out of her way to find out his name, in the show Cas was Brett Thompson, and inform his family of his 'accident'.

When the credits for the episode started scrolling past, Meg paused it again and got really close to the television so that she could read the small script. She ran a finger over the words until she landed on the name for Cas's character and then tracked across until it matched up with the actor's name listed beside it.

"James Collins," She said glancing over her shoulder at Dean for a moment who had just buried his face in his hands when the other woman had gotten up, letting out a strangled sounding groan.

Meg darted towards her bedroom and Dean took the chance to look at the ceiling hard so that he could blink away the tears that were stinging his eyes, he just felt so stupid for thinking Cas was different. But he wasn't, everything that he had told Dean was just another big fucking lie, like everything else in California was. He needed to pull himself together, Dean and Meg had to be at work soon and he couldn't go in all red-eyed and miserable, that wouldn't be fair to either him or Jess who he knew relied on their pooled tips just as much as he did.

"What are you doing, Meg?" Dean croaked out, grabbing his boots and putting them on before moving towards the smaller woman's bedroom.

He found her sitting at the desk she had there, her face illuminated by the glow of her computer as she scrolled through pages and pages of pictures of Castiel, which had been brought up with the name James Collins. Meg clicked over to another tab as he stood over her shoulder, pulling up an IMDB page that listed everything he had done, clicking down the page until he could see that it started with his appearances in _Dr. Sexy M.D._

"Dean," Meg began turning and placing a hand on one of his that were gripping the back of her office chair hard. "I'm sure there's a reason why he-"

"Just get ready for work, Meg." He said hollowly, tearing his eyes off of the screen and shaking off her hand before he left the bedroom without another word.

* * *

Cas was pretty if you looked up suicidal in the dictionary, you would see a big picture of him. He knew he was asking for trouble by going back to the bar, but as soon as Alfie had crossed over onto the bay area peninsula he was making up some excuse about meeting with Roche for some pre-production celebratory drinks at Dean's bar, which wasn't a complete lie.

Balthazar had called him over the weekend, he assumed the Brit had gotten his private number from Crowley, to ask him to meet to discuss some issues he was having with locations and finding a reliable editor. Castiel didn't really see how any of those things were his problem, but he wanted to stay in the director's good graces so he had agreed to a dinner with the other man scheduled for a couple of days after he got settled into his rented house in Sea Cliff. He was a nice guy after all; it was kind of what he was known for.

But just because he was nice, it did not mean that he was above lying to his young driver who had started to become almost like a friend to him in order to maneuver himself into a position where he might see Dean again. So he had Alfie drop him off at The Neighbourhood around 8pm when the club would still be mostly empty so paparazzi probably wouldn't be around and he could slip in with a minimal amount of attention being drawn to himself.

Just in case though, he had worn his trench coat over his jeans and dark grey plaid button down, a Red Sox cap covering his messy hair, and dark aviators that were completely different from his normal glasses. Cas just hoped it would be enough to make him look nondescript and insubstantial.

He dropped his name with the bouncer manning the VIP area and slid into one of the darkened booths that sat on the edges of the room. Castiel stripped off his meager disguise and ran though the explanations he had come with for Dean in his head, all of them were trite and probably wouldn't be enough to make up for him running out on the other man, but he needed to explain and apologize because he just couldn't stand the thought of Dean hating him. If there was one person he didn't want hating him, it was Dean.

"What can I get for you, honey?" A blonde waitress sidled up, scratching distractedly at a notepad balanced on a round black serving tray. He recognized her as one of the girls that had been working the night he had met Dean, but he couldn't remember what the other man had called her.

"Something strong, please." Castiel said wringing his hands anxiously as she looked up at him wide-eyed when he spoke.

"You!" She exclaimed, jumping up and down a bit, causing her curly blonde hair to bounce around her shoulders. "It's you! Ohmygod, Dean talked about you for like a week last time you were here. Where have you been?"

"I'm not from around here," Castiel admitted, smiling earnestly at the girl as she perched on the edge of the booth, settling her tray on the table and propping her head up on one hand. "Is Dean working tonight?"

"Ummm... later I think. I'm Jess by the way, if you need anything at all just yell for me or send me flowers. You have really good taste in flowers, by the way."

Cas blushed at the compliment, mostly because he knew that he didn't deserve it. The flowers had been a last minute gesture to try to soothe his guilty conscience, back when he thought that maybe he could forget about Dean and how the other man had made him feel like just being Castiel Krushnic was enough for someone to want him, instead of hiding behind the charming disguise of James Collins all of the time.

"Do you think he liked them?" Castiel asked softly, earning a little slap on the hand from Jess.

"I know he did, but you've been gone a while." Jess bit her lip and leaned closer to him, like she was about to tell him a secret. "Dean's not very good with people leaving him, so I hope you've come to sweep him off of his feet or something because I think that's what it's going to take for you to get him back."

"I just came to apologize," the man said sadly, wishing that he could do more, tell Dean how he felt more alive when they had kissed than he had in the last five years.

"Oh," the girl said sounding disappointed as she climbed to her feet. "That's too bad, you guys were real cute together and I know that he likes you. Anyway, I'll be right back with your drink, Mr. Collins."

Castiel nodded at the tabletop, feeling entirely miserable about the whole situation that he had found himself in before his head shot up and he jumped out of the booth to race after Jess who was heading towards the bar where he had first seen Dean that was now being tended to by a wispy, looking redhead. He caught the blonde by the arm, being careful not to hurt her, but this was a threat level orange situation if she had just called him what he thought she had.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked urgently, his eyes searching her face and pleading with her to say no, of course not.

"You're James Collins," Jess said with a shrug, giving him a confused look at the panic that must have crossed his face. "Right? I'm a big Hitchcock fan and I've been following the story about Roche's new movie."

Castiel nodded and cursed himself for being so stupid as he forced a smile on his face, edging away from the girl so that he could grab his stuff and bolt before someone else who knew who he was and what had happened with him and Dean saw him. Crowley's plan to make him a household name was working, but it was causing any chance he had of reconciling with Dean to slip farther and farther away.

"Um, J-J-Jess. Just forget about that um...drink. I've got to go," he stammered feeling just as frightened and out of sorts as he had when his mom had walked in on him making out with that guy who worked at the pizza place when he was a teenager.

Cas spun on his heel only to run straight into a warm, solid wall that he was pretty sure hadn't been behind him before, causing him to fall gracelessly on the floor. He looked up, blushing and feeling like a complete moron for even thinking this was a good idea in the first place, to see Dean standing over him with an expression that couldn't seem to settle as it flitted between anger, confusion, and elation.

"Hello Dean." Castiel croaked out in a small voice, slowly getting up from the floor and dusting himself off.

"Cas." Dean said shortly. "Or maybe I should call you Jimmy? I think James is a little too formal after everything we've done, don't you agree?"

This was not how he had pictured their reunion going at all.

"I can explain-" Castiel began, taking a step closer to the other man and reaching up automatically to smooth away the frown that was creasing Dean's brow.

"Don't fucking touch me," Dean hissed batting his hand away. "You're nothing but a liar and a fake, stay away from me."

Castiel wanted to make the hurt he could see in those beautiful green eyes go away, he never wanted Dean to look like that again, because of him or anyone else. But he was also painfully aware of how many eyes and by proxy how many camera phones were on them right now and this was really a conversation that needed to move to somewhere more private before it ended up on Youtube.

"Can we go somewhere and talk?" He pleaded quietly with Dean, hoping that the other man could hear the sincerity in his voice.

The muscles in Dean's jaw clenched and he fixed Castiel with a hard stare before a small hand with red-painted nails settled on the other man's arm and a small dark haired woman pulled Dean to the side to talk in heated whispers. Cas watched, glancing around at the other scattered patrons and smiling sheepishly, as the woman gestured wildly towards where he was standing a couple of times and Dean just stood there shaking his head with his hands on his hips until the woman grabbed his chin and turned it towards Castiel, leaning in to say one last thing to him that made the emerald hardness of Dean's eyes soften towards him for a moment.

"Fine," he heard the other man snap, shaking off the woman's hand and pointing a finger at her. "But I'm using your office."

"Just pick up after yourself, Winchester." the woman said smugly, walking up to Castiel and pinching him on the cheek lightly. "I bought you some time, angel. Don't fuck it up again."

Castiel nodded at her stunned and followed behind Dean when the other man started stalking across room and back down the mirrored hallway where they had first kissed. The other man led him into a room marked 'Employees Only' that had a row of lockers against one wall and a scarred folding table with some chairs scattered around it and through that into a small office that branched off.

He walked ahead of the other man into the dimly lit room and flinched when the door shut loudly behind them. When Castiel turned around to look at Dean he was struck again by how beautiful the other man was, even when he was angry and standing all closed off with his arms crossed over his chest and a thunderous expression on his face.

"I don't know where to begin," he said timidly, every speech he had rehearsed in his head had abandoned him and all that he was left with was Juno's comments about how he was mad for letting public opinion dictate who he was with, especially since he was so miserable after meeting Dean and having his time with the other man stolen from him, a sentiment that she had relayed to him when he had gone over to eat dinner with her and Patrick the night before after packing his bags with the things he would need while in San Francisco.

"How about you start with something that isn't a complete fucking lie? Shit, I don't even know what your real name is at this point. Who the fuck are you?" Dean said moving around the room so that he could sit in one of the chairs that faced the large desk in the center of the room.

"Well, it's not James Collins." Castiel snapped childishly. "I didn't lie to you about anything, Dean."

"Oh, so you are a movie producer then? And all of the acting credits under your belt are what? Your hobby?"

"You're the one that said I was a movie producer, Dean! I just said I worked in film. I wanted to tell you, but everything with us just happened so fast and it didn't seem important at the time."

"Because you knew that you weren't going to stick around long enough for me to ever have to know who you really were!" The other man spat at him, slamming down a clenched fist on his leg and letting out a frustrated growl. "Just tell me who you are, Cas."

"Fine!" Castiel said throwing his arms out to his side and moving to stand in front of Dean, not really caring in the man decided to punch him once he got out what he needed to say because then at least he would have said it and he could move on with his fucking life.

"My name is Castiel Dmitri Krushnic! I'm from Boston, Massachusetts, my mom's name is Amelia and my dad's name is Charles, he's a third generation Russian immigrant who taught English literature at Boston College. My stage name is James Collins because I used to jerk off to James fucking Dean when I was a teenager and my mom's maiden name is Collins. My asshole, Scottish agent thought it would be easier for the idiotic American public to pronounce than my real fucking name!"

Dean sat open mouthed and shocked looking in front of him, but Castiel couldn't stop, now that he was on a roll it just kept coming, all of the frustration he had been holding onto since leaving the other man's apartment almost a month ago, how tired he was of not being in control of his own life anymore, just came spilling out like a never ending flow of toxic sludge.

"I hate California! I can't stand the beach, I get sunburned practically anytime I step foot outside without sun-screen on. I miss the east coast and how everyone there was a sarcastic, ironic fucking know it all, but at least they were more genuine that most of the people I've met here! And I missed you! I don't even fucking know you, but the one fucking night I spent with you is the first time I've been happy about anything since moving to this god-forsaken pit. So, I'm sorry Dean! Alright!? I'm just as bad as all of the other soulless, shallow career-driven assbutts in this place. I'm just so sorry that I messed things up with you...is that enough? Do you know enough now?"

Castiel was out of breath and panting from his rant and it was nothing like what he had originally planned on saying, but it pretty much covered how he was feeling so all he could do was wait for Dean forgive him so that he could go back to his empty life and his meaningless career with just the knowledge that this amazing man didn't hate him.

Dean stood up quickly, fists clenched at his sides and his eyes blazing. The flight portion of Cas's brain told him to back down because Dean was bigger and probably stronger and he was supposed to start filming in a week, which he couldn't do if he had a broken nose. Hands shot out to grip the front of his shirt as the other man pushed him back hard against the desk, causing the drawers to rattle and several pens to roll off of the edge onto the floor.

"God," Dean breathed, looking between Castiel's eyes with an intensity that had him second guessing exactly how this exchange was going to end. "I fucking missed you too."

The other man crushed their lips together and Castiel reached up to grab onto Dean's arm, intending to push him away because if this happened then it was just going to be harder when it all had to end again. But they landed on the other man's face instead, pulling him closer as they scrabbled for purchase against the smooth skin of Dean's cheeks, his thumbs brushing over the other man's cheekbones and around to the sides of his jaw in order to keep him from ever ending their desperate kiss.

He felt Dean press closer to him until the other man was flush against him, his hands moving to Castiel's hips in order to lift him until he was seated on the edge of the desk and Dean had moved between his knees. Cas slid one of his hands back into the larger man's hair and he felt the other man shiver when his short nails scratched against his scalp, groaning into their kiss and allowing Castiel to slide his tongue into the hot cavern of Dean's mouth.

Kissing Dean was better than he had remembered, making his stomach roil in a pleasant way, like a rollercoaster reaching its peak right before the bottom dropped out on the downhill slope and all you could see was sky as the adrenaline and elation raced through you. The smell of pumpkins and spice and crushed autumn leaves invaded his senses and all he wanted to do was breathe the other man in until they wouldn't ever have to be apart again.

"I missed you, Cas." Dean murmured, breaking away so that he could breathe but keeping his forehead pressed against Castiel's and his hands on the other man's hips so that he couldn't run away. "I thought I had made you up, that you weren't real. I didn't know what I had done wrong to make you leave…"

"I'm sorry," Castiel replied, moving back in for another kiss in order to keep Dean from blaming himself for something that neither one of them could control. "You did nothing wrong. Dean, you're perfect."

"So what now?" The other man asked hesitantly, Castiel could hear the real question in Dean's voice and it broke his heart when he pictured the bartender with someone else, feeling for someone else how Cas was pretty sure he felt about Dean. "You're just going to disappear again?"

He pictured what might happen if Crowley were to find out about tonight, how mad his agent would be for him putting his career that they had worked so hard to finally get off of the ground in jeopardy for someone he couldn't even take out in public for fear of the paparazzi seeing them. And Castiel didn't really care, because his heart was pounding in his chest and the feel of Dean's hands where they had moved around to the small of his back gave him courage to face the Scotsman when the time inevitably came to do so.

"No," He said lowly, cupping Dean's jaw and smiling when the other man leaned slightly into the touch. "I'll stay."

Dean groaned and pushed his hands against Castiel's back until they were kissing again, fighting for dominance in a way that made heat pool in his stomach as he thought of Cas actually wanting to be with him, for real. Castiel's long fingers started fumbling with the buttons of his shirt and he kissed down the other man's jaw until his mouth was next to Cas's ear.

"Don't say it if you don't mean it, Cas. Don't lie to me again." He breathed hot and desperate, nipping at the stubble just below the other man's lobe.

"I'll stay, Dean." Castiel said pushing at Dean's shoulders until he could see the other man's face, so that the bartender could see how he meant every word he was saying. "I promise, I'll stay this time."

"Winchester! Let's go!" A feminine voice yelled through the doorway, accompanied by a sharp knock before it started to open. Meg stopped with a self-satisfied smirk settling on her face as she watched the two men hurriedly pulling apart of each other, Castiel's lips kiss swollen, Dean sporting a faint red tinge on his freshly-shaven jaw from where the other man's stubble had irritated his skin. "Great you two made up, now come on, Dean. You're not ducking out of another shift because of your boyfriend here. Clock in and get to work, main bar tonight."

Dean hurriedly did up the few buttons that Castiel had managed to get undone as they had kissed, throwing an annoyed look at his manager that he knew wasn't very convincing since he could feel himself smiling like an idiot when she called Cas his boyfriend. He looked over at the other man who was blushing furiously and biting his lip, fidgeting with his hands like he didn't know what to do now that Dean was going to be busy for the rest of the night.

"You don't have to leave," Dean said quickly, stilling Castiel's anxious movements with a hand on the other man's arm. "Meg? You'll make sure no one bothers him, right?"

"Of course!" Meg said catching on when Dean gave her a pleading looking and angled his head towards the other man. "I have nothing better to do all night, not like I have a bar to manage or anything."

The smaller woman moved to put and arm around Castiel, leading him towards the door of the office as Dean followed behind, feeling like this couldn't possibly be his life as he watched the oddly-matched pair moving back towards the main area of the bar, snagging seats at one end and talking about Joss Whedon and videogames like they had known each other for years.

"Bartender!" Meg shouted, gesturing between her and Cas as Dean slipped behind the counter, rolling up the sleeves on his button down and beginning to arrange things how he liked. "We're gonna need some shots down here. Chop chop!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem mentioned in the story is called The Bees by Bruce Mackinnon. Also, obvs there are going to be mention of real actors/actresses as well as real movies and TV shows so don't freak out over liberties that I take with some of it. As far as I know Patrick Fugit and Juno Temple are not an item, but how cute would they be together!? Anyway, let me know what you think if you're enjoying , not enjoying, if you want me to shut up already and forget how to type. Let me know.


	5. Chapter 5

"The vodka ish bad," Meg slurred, clutching onto the shoulders of the two men carrying her. "No one should drink it. Tell them not to drink it, Jimbo."

She had started the evening thinking that it would be easy to get Castiel drunk, if the man was anything like Dean described- all nerdy and innocent and sweet, then it was going to be a walk in the park to drink him under the table and have him spewing to her how he really felt about her friend. Why he had bothered coming back when he already had his out. What she had not been counting on was Castiel being from Boston and at least one quarter Irish on his mother's side, making him a force to be reckoned with when it came to alcohol consumption.

"I don't like that nickname," Castiel groused from somewhere under her left arm, grunting slightly when Dean left him to shoulder her weight as he carefully leaned the seats of her Mustang forward so they could lay her out in the backseat.

"Well, then what am I shupposed to call you?" Meg practically screamed in the man's ear causing him to wince away as Dean laughed at him. "Casshteal, that's your secret name and your honey bunny glares at me when I call you Caz…Casssshh..fuck I've got this, when I can you CAS. James is stuffy, I don't like James."

"Call me whatever you want, Meg." The man said dropping her back into the seat and watching as Dean carefully helped her scoot back until she was propped up against the interior on the driver's side, blinking at him owlishly with a little disgruntled frown on her face. "Just not Jimbo."

"Imma call you Clarence," Meg declared firmly as the two men slid into the front seat of her car, giving each other happy little smiles that they probably thought she wouldn't see.

"Why Clarence?" Dean asked, adjusting her driver's seat to accommodate his bow legs and hurriedly turning down the radio when Alanis Morrisette started blaring out as soon as the car was turned on.

Meg could feel the alcohol trying to pull her down and it just was so hard trying to keep her head up so she flopped her loose limbs around until she had propped her chin up on the corner of Dean's seat and she could whisper her answer so that Cas wouldn't hear it and end up getting freaked out by how much he meant to her friend.

"Becaussh, you were misherable and he's the angel that is saving you from yourshelf." Meg mumbled, giggling quietly to herself as she lurched over to perch on Castiel's seat so she could start singing 'Buffalo Gals' into his ear.

She fell asleep as they were driving, drooling slightly onto Castiel's trench coat that he had put back on along with his hat and sunglasses before they left the bar. In the morning she would remember a vague dream about hands clasped together and murmured apologies, backlit by a dim reddish glow that outlined the two men when they had leaned close together, almost kissing but not for reasons that she couldn't really remember. When Dean carted her up to her apartment, thrown over his shoulder in a fireman style carry that would've had her swooning if he had longer hair and ovaries all she could think about was how she had just gotten the interior of her car detailed.

"Don't fuck him in my car," Meg mumbled into Dean's back, slapping at his butt because it was the only part of him that she could really reach that wouldn't cause both of them to end up on the floor.

"I'm too old to be having sex in cars, Meg." Dean replied, tossing her unceremoniously onto her bed and pulling off her boots with a muffled grunt. "And my car is bigger anyway."

"You're never too old to be having sex that's what Viagra is for. Just don't do it in my car," Meg said rolling over onto her stomach and burying her face in her pillow, falling back into a deep depressant related slumber.

"What did she say?" Castiel asked, folding up his sunglasses as he meandered into the room, looking around at all of the feminist art and aggressive grrrl-power posters on the walls with an adorably confused expression on his face that had Dean's heart beating faster in his chest.

"She said she likes you," Dean lied, but then again he didn't really think it was a lie because Meg didn't just hand out nicknames like candy; she reserved them for people who she thought were worth it.

"Oh that's good," Castiel said with a shrug, pulling off his baseball cap and scrubbing a hand through his hair with a sigh. "I feel kind of bad for getting her so drunk. Vodka is just like water to me. I mean, I'm mostly Russian. If she wanted to get me talking she should've done whiskey."

"Really?" Dean said quirking an amused eyebrow at the other man and wishing that he had bothered to restock his kitchen with alcohol after he had drank it all, but it was probably better if they weren't drunk when they had the conversation that he knew had to happen.

"Yep," Castiel replied leaning against the doorway of Meg's bedroom and smiling at him widely. "And tequila makes me a total slut."

"Duly noted."

Dean stepped close into Castiel's space and just leaned on him a bit, resting his head on the other man's shoulder and sighing tiredly. He was definitely feeling the effects of his late night, drinking himself to sleep the night before and now that Cas was here, like really here all he wanted to do was drag the other man to bed and go to sleep wrapped up together. He also wanted to just fuck him into the closest mattress, but Dean had decided to wait for that until after they talked, after they set the boundaries that he knew the other man would want for whatever it was they were doing.

The thought had been growing in his mind as he worked, periodically moving down towards the end of the bar where Cas and Meg had parked themselves to refill their drinks and flirt subtly with the other man in a way that made Castiel's eyes light up when he laughed at Dean's cheesy pick up lines. It felt so comfortable and familiar, like they had never been apart and it wasn't until the bar had started getting busy that Dean noticed how many stares Cas was getting. Not just the kind of stares that someone as good looking as the other man probably got on a regular basis, it was the stares of the general public suddenly finding themselves confronted with someone famous.

It happened more in California than Dean would've thought, he had just assumed that everyone who lived here would be so over seeing celebrities that they would treat them like just another person, cut them off in their car or be rude to them in the line at the grocery store because really they were just people like everyone else. But that star-struckness was still there, like it was embedded into human DNA to fall all over themselves fawning at people who just happened to look good on a big screen or under studio lights.

The first girl who had stepped up to ask Castiel for his autograph had been pretty in the kind of way that only money could buy, with big fake, looking tits and a spray tan that made her look orange in the blueish lighting of the bar. She had leaned all over Cas, splaying her chest across his back as she watched over his shoulder while he signed the piece of paper that she had pulled out of her purse. He had laughed at something the girl had whispered in his ear and shook her hand in a gentlemanly way before turning back to Meg and continuing to talk to Dean's friend with an air of someone who has had practice with tuning people out.

Dean had been burning with jealously as he watched the whole exchange while restocking the bottled beers in the cooler until Castiel had caught his eye and winked at him, blowing a covert kiss in his direction that Meg had teased the other man about for the next half hour. It had continued throughout the night, both men and women coming up and talking to Cas excitedly about some movie he was going to be in, some openly flirting with him and others just asking for his autograph or a picture with the actor before drifting back off to their friends. That had been when Dean first realized how much Cas was risking by being with him, hell by just being in the same building as him.

It wasn't just about getting jumped in an alleyway for making eyes at another man. That had happened to Dean on more than one occasion, but most of the time Sam had been close by to help him out if he was too hopelessly outnumbered. No, they were putting Castiel's entire reputation at stake by being together; watching each other move around the room in a way that was so heavy with unspoken emotion that Dean felt like surely, everyone could tell that they were more than casual acquaintances.

And that was why he had been hesitant to touch Castiel since leaving the bar even though all he had wanted to do was straddle the other man where he was sitting in the passenger seat of Meg's car that they had driven to the bar because Dean had still been too angry about finding out who Cas really was to trust himself behind the wheel and kiss the worry lines off of the other man's face, replacing them with an expression that he had only seen one other time before. The one from when they had slept together the first time, it was that contended happy smile that Castiel had gotten when Dean had curled up against him that the larger man ached to see.

Cas had made the first move, taking his hand in the sparsely lit interior of Meg's Mustang. Keeping their hands low on the gear shift between them so that anyone driving next to them couldn't see and almost kissing Dean after the millionth time he had apologized for yelling at Castiel in the middle of the bar, but catching himself at the last minute and just squeezing Dean's hand hard instead.

Dean just wanted to be able to hold him and touch him and prove to his still skittish mind that Cas was here, actually here and he had promised to stay. But after seeing the attention he had gotten in the bar he couldn't, so now just leaning into Castiel's shoulder felt like a gift after having held himself back from showering affection on the other man like had wanted to do all night.

"You're tired," Castiel murmured above him, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist and rubbing at the small of the larger man's back with the palm of his hand. "Do you want to go home?"

"Yes." Dean groaned gratefully, arching his aching back into the other man's firm touch.

"I'll call my driver to come and get me," the other man said pulling back with a resigned sigh. "And I guess we'll just have to make plans to see each other."

"Oh, I thought…nevermind, it's stupid. I'll just give you my number and you can call me when you aren't busy or whatever. I know you have a lot to do."

Dean pulled away from Cas quickly so that the other man wouldn't see the hurt expression he knew was on his face, it was silly. Castiel wasn't tied to him, didn't owe him anything so Dean didn't know why he had been expecting the other man to want to come back to his apartment when he probably had a big hotel room waiting for him somewhere. But he was going to make sure that Cas had a way to contact him and vice versa because Dean would be damned if he lost the other man again over something as stupid as not knowing his phone number.

"Wait," Castiel said, catching Dean's arm as he started down the hallway and towards Meg's kitchen. "What did you think?"

"It's nothing, Cas." Dean said softly, shaking off the hand and grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge along with the bottle of Tylenol that he knew his friend kept above the sink next to her own emergency alcohol stash.

"It's not nothing to me, Dean. If you're having second thoughts about this then I want to know because I don't want to start off this relationship with any more deceit."

"Is that what this is?" Dean asked hesitantly, happy that he his hands were full because otherwise they would be shaking. "A relationship?"

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Castiel asked his brow furrowing in frustration. "Isn't that why you asked me to stay?"

"Of course that's what I want Cas," Dean replied, fighting back the warmth that had bloomed in his chest because he just couldn't let the other man make a sacrifice like that for him, he wasn't worth it. "But you're already sneaking around just trying to talk to me at all, what are we supposed to do if we want to go on a date? And eventually someone is going to see us together. I may not be from around here, but I've seen the kind of gossip that gets spread about celebrities and I don't want you to put your career at risk for me."

"Can't you just let me worry about that?" Castiel asked gently taking the water and medicine out of Dean's hands and moving so that he could circle his arms around the larger man's waist, tugging him close and sliding his hands into the back pockets of Dean's jeans in one smooth gesture. "If I thought that any of that mattered I wouldn't be here. I really like you Dean, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you for the last month, and now that we're together I can't think of anywhere else I would rather be."

Castiel's voice had gotten low and sincere as he spoke, moving closer and closer to Dean until he was saying those beautiful, sincere words right against the larger man's neck and it was enough. Enough to make Dean forget that this was going to get worse before it got better, that he was probably going to have to sneak around with Castiel like some closeted schoolboy, and that for now things like dates and public displays of affection were going to be off limits. But if it meant that he got Castiel Krushnic while the rest of the world got the facsimile that was James Collins, then he could deal with it for now.

"Okay," Dean said as the other man started placing soft little kisses along his throat. "Then don't call your driver, come home with me."

Castiel hummed from somewhere beneath his chin where the other man had buried his face in Dean's neck, "I thought you were tired."

"I am tired, but I want to get a do-over at waking up together and I never got to make that breakfast I promised you."

"Of course, the omelets. How could I forget?" Castiel replied teasingly, pulling back slightly with a mischievous grin on his face.

Dean didn't know how long it would take before the desire to pinch himself awake went away, if it would ever go away because he wasn't sure that he wanted this dream to end if that's what it was. He set Meg up with the standard hangover supplies; a bottle of water, a couple of Tylenol, and her phone stowed away safely in the other room so that she would have to find it before she got up to send any embarrassing drunken texts to her ex.

The car ride over to his apartment was intense with Castiel just staring at Dean in a way that made him feel like the other man was trying to just take him apart piece by piece and memorize everything about him until Castiel could put him back together with his eyes closed, leaving traces of himself in the spaces between Dean's bones and muscles so that everyone would be able to tell that he was ruined for anyone besides the actor who was insane enough to risk everything for him. Dean had never felt so wanted by another person in his life and it scared him how mutual the feeling already was.

He decided to park Baby in the underground parking garage that his apartment had in order to be able to get Cas into the building without any suspicious eyes seeing which he normally didn't do because he liked to be able to look out of the window of his apartment and see his most prized possession right there, the one piece of his mom and dad that he still had. Dean thought that they would've liked Castiel if they were still alive, though his dad hadn't reacted positively at first when he had come out in junior high, the older man had eventually come to terms with the fact that Dean was still Dean and just because he liked guys didn't mean that had changed.

One of the last things John had said to him before the house fire that made Dean and Sam orphans happened was that all he wanted was for his sons to be safe and as happy with someone as he was with their mother, no matter what sex they were. After the funeral, Bobby had mirrored the sentiment but in a less subtle way when he kicked one of Dean's less savory conquests out of the house after the older boy had gotten the then sophomore Dean drunk at a party. He had still been trying to drown the pain of losing his parents and his home over the summer and Michael had provided a convenient outlet for him to rage and rebel against everything he felt like the world had taken from him. His surrogate uncle had been the first person to tell Dean that he deserved to be more than a notch in someone's bedpost.

"Who do I need to talk to about getting that elevator fixed?" Castiel puffed behind him as they climbed the stairs, stripping off the trench coat that he had put back on and throwing it over his shoulder while clinging desperately to the back of Dean's shirt. "Because I am not doing this every fucking day. No wonder you're in such good shape."

"You should see some of the delivery boys in this neighborhood," Dean said cautiously glancing around the hallway on his floor as he dragged Castiel up the last several steps before pulling the other man into a short, intense kiss. "They're hella buff."

"Hmmm," Castiel replied teasingly, crowding in close to Dean as he turned around to unlock his front door. "Well if those are the kind of tips you're handing out then maybe I'm in the wrong business."

"Sleep." Dean said firmly, even though he was mentally cursing himself for drinking the night before because now he didn't have the energy to do anything.

Jo waking him up for that stupid, pointless date hadn't helped either and the guilt he felt for leading Aaron on was nagging at one corner of his mind. He would probably have to come up with a good reason to give Jo about why he had no intention of calling the other man back because Dean was pretty sure the excuse of 'I'm in a secret relationship with an actor who kisses me like the world is ending' was not going to cut it. Dean just smiled when Castiel started undressing him as soon as the door shut, surely Cas could help him come up with something to tell people.

Dean had batted the other man off by the time they reached his bedroom. Even though Cas had already gotten most of the buttons of Dean's shirt undone, Dean just watched with what he knew had to be a dumbstruck expression on his face as Castiel started pulling off the layers he was wearing until the actor was just striped down to a white undershirt and a pair of blue boxers that the larger man couldn't help up admire when Cas bent over to rummage around in his trench coat, pulling out a small case for contacts and his glasses. The other man just smirked at Dean and wandered off into the bathroom for a couple of minutes before he returned with his glasses in place, yawning in an exaggerated way that turned into an even more exaggerated pout when he saw that Dean did have underwear on this time.

"I don't know whether to be flattered or disappointed," Castiel said crawling into Dean's bed and automatically settling on the side closest to the window, the side that Dean didn't sleep on. It gave him a warm fuzzy feelings to see the other man in his bed like he belonged there, fluffing up the pillows and fidgeting with the blankets until he had them how he liked them. "And I used your toothbrush, hope you don't mind."

"Gross now I'm gonna get cooties," Dean supplied with a smile, plugging in his cell phone to its charger on his nightstand and turning off the light before he climbed into bed beside Cas.

"You're a stupid jerkface," Castiel replied turning his back on Dean with an adorable little huff.

He pulled the other man up against his chest in a protective reversal of their positions from the first night they had spent together. This felt so different, so much better and domestic and perfect in a way that Dean hadn't known that he wanted until now. Castiel's hair tickled his nose when he leaned down to kiss the other man on the top of his head and he wordlessly snatched the glasses off of Cas's face, putting them carefully on his bedside table and just marveling at how fucking normal it felt to do little things like that for the actor. It probably didn't mean as much to Cas as it did to him, but normal wasn't something that Dean much of in his life since his parents died and while this still couldn't completely fall into that category it felt closer than anything else he had ever had.

* * *

The first thought that Castiel had when he woke up was, _ugh, sun._

Because the light was streaming in through Dean's wide open blinds and his apartment was in the perfect position for the bright rays of mid-morning light to be glancing off of the other buildings around Dean's apartment complex and the water farther off in the distance, making the white painted walls seem brighter and harsher in comparison to the relative darkness that he usually kept his own bedroom in back home.

His second thought was a lot more pleasant because it centered around the soft kisses that Dean was placing on the back of his neck and how the other man's hand had slid under the shirt that he had slept in to run over his chest and abdomen with gentle, barely there caresses. Dean was murmuring something against his skin, but Castiel's mind was still too fuzzy to make out what the other man was saying so he just groaned at Dean's touch and tried to will away his already half-hard morning erection.

All he had wanted to do the night before was have Dean laid out underneath him, writhing and biting his lip and looking debauched just for him, but the other man was tired and the last thing Cas had wanted to do was make it seem like he only wanted Dean for another one night stand or some hook up. Dean wanted him to stay, wanted a relationship and so he could take things slow with all of this because he had never wanted anything as badly as he wanted the other man ever in his life. He was even ready to keep doing documentaries for the rest of his life if it meant he could wake up this way forever.

Dean's hand stilled on his chest when Castiel stirred and he could already feel the other man tensing up like he was going to pull away, so Cas just snuggled back deeper into the cavern of Dean's arms and put his hand over the one the other man still had on his chest.

"Don't stop," Castiel muttered sleepily. "S'feels good."

Dean huffed out a chuckle behind him, but tangled their legs together and resumed his movements, more purposeful now that he knew Cas could actually feel them. Running the flat of his palm over Castiel's pecs and up to trail his fingers across the dip of his collarbone before lightly raking his nails down and over his nipples in a way that had him arching back into Dean, feeling the hardness of the other man pressed up against the base of his spine.

"Don't start something you can't finish, Dean." Castiel warned teasingly as the other man's hand trailed down to toy with the waistband of his boxers.

He looked back over his shoulder and was met with the sight of Dean's vibrant green eyes boring into his own, pupils blown wide with lust and mouth slightly open from where he had started breathing heavily against Castiel's hair. Dean licked his lips and smirked at Cas before purposefully grinding his erection into his butt, the thin material not leaving much to the imagination as Dean quirked an eyebrow when the smaller man let out a strangled sounding whimper.

"Who said I can't finish it?" Dean replied lowly, sucking Castiel's earlobe into his mouth and nibbling on it slightly.

Castiel groaned and rolled his hips back onto Dean's erection, sucking in a sharp breath when the other man's hand slid deftly into his boxers and started stroking him to full hardness with slow, teasing movements. He reached one of his hands back to grab on to Dean's hip and was less than surprised to find that the other man was already naked.

"Wishful thinking again?" Castiel asked, biting back a moan when Dean ran a thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the precome down his length as he continued to grind into Cas from behind and kiss his neck.

"With you sweetheart, always." Dean murmured softly, turning Castiel over onto his back and moving in to place a soft, sensuous kiss on his lips.

Castiel could feel Dean cupping his jaw and running his thumb over his cheekbones in a way that made his heart do that fluttering thing that had happened the first time he had been with the other man. It had to be something more than arousal because their mouths just fit together so perfectly and he felt like he could kiss Dean forever and never come up for air. The world could crumble around them and he would never know it because right now everything was perfect.

Strong hands pulled his shirt over his head and Castiel let out a little sound of disappoint that he had to stop kissing Dean in order to get it off, but before he could think too much about it Dean was climbing into his lap, straddling his hips and pushing down his boxers with urgent movements that his sleep-addled mind was still struggling to catch up with. Castiel kicked them off clumsily, not breaking his kiss with Dean even when he felt his cock slide slickly into the cleft of the other man's ass just groaning into their kiss as the larger man ran his hands over Cas's chest and arms.

"Cas," Dean breathed into his mouth, breaking away so that he could place a bruising, biting kiss on his collarbone. "I want you so much. I want everyone to know you're mine."

Castiel was too focused on how his hard cock felt pressed between the perfect, globes of Dean's ass to care that the other man was giving him a hickey that would put most teenagers to shame, he was thirty fucking two for christsakes, but that didn't mean that feeling Dean's teeth grazing against his skin was any less of a turn on. He had been holding tightly onto Dean's hips so that he wouldn't be tempted to thrust up into the other man without prepping him first, but Cas needed to feel Dean wrapped around him, connected with him so his heart could calm down since all it seemed to want to do was explode out of his chest with feelings he had for the other man.

He moved one of his hands around so that he could press into Dean first with his fingers so that he could get the other man accustomed to the intrusion; Castiel was nothing if not a considerate lover. Even with the guys that Crowley paid to sleep with him, he had always made sure that they enjoyed the experience as much as he did. To say that he was surprised when his probing fingers sunk deep into the other man without any resistance would have been an understatement, because his cock twitched at the low groan Dean let out above him when he pressed back eagerly into Castiel's hand and it took him pulling out his most inner zen moments that he used when he did yoga in order to stop himself from coming right then and there.

"Someone was busy this morning," Castiel said thrusting a second finger hard into Dean's already stretched and lubed hole causing the other man to groan again and clench his hands onto where they had settled on Cas's ribcage.

"Fuck, Cas." Dean said biting his lip as the slow, torturous pace that Castiel was setting as he scissored him open. "I made breakfast and you were still asleep. Oh god, yes uuh. What did you expect me to do?"

"Not this," Castiel replied, breathing evenly as he took in the sight of Dean's face still hovering over his own as he crooked his fingers to brush against the other man's prostate. "Figured you for more of a top."

Dean's eyes went wide when Castiel found it and he arched his back, letting out a moan of Castiel's name that made something primal and possessive stir in the smaller man. Castiel removed his fingers and pushed Dean gently up so that he could grasp ahold of his cock that was slick from a mixture of precome and the lube Dean had used on himself to and line it up to the other man's entrance.

Dean moaned as he sank down onto the thick length of Castiel's member, savoring how the other man stretched and filled him while he supported his weight with his hands on Cas's solid chest. The other man was watching him with a look of amazement on his face and Dean just smiled at how Castiel's eyes fluttered closed with a groan the first time he rolled his hips, flexing the muscles in his thighs in order to draw the other man even deeper until he could feel that Castiel had bottomed out inside of him.

"I'm on top now," Dean said, causing Castiel to laugh breathily beneath him. "So you weren't wrong and even if you were, can't a guy like both?"

"Of course, baby." Castiel murmured, running his thumbs over the sharp jut of Dean's hipbones before his grip on the other man became harder, more sure and forceful so that he could draw back and thrust up into the tight, heat encasing him. "You can be whatever you want."

"Ughhh, nice to know I have your permission, Cas." Dean managed to get out before he found himself struggling for breath as Castiel thrust hard and deep into him.

He tried his best to keep up, but before too long the muscles in his legs were burning and twitching and his vision was going all spotty every time Castiel stroked against his prostate. Dean's cock was curled up tight against his abdomen and he could feel the precome leaking out, running down the length and over his balls to pool on Castiel's stomach. He reached down a hand to stroke himself, biting his lip when Cas found the perfect angle to hit his prostate every single time he thrust into him. It was going to be embarrassing how short this all lasted, but fuck if anything Dean had ever done could be called love-making this might be it.

"Fuck, Dean." Castiel groaned as the larger man rode him; sweat beading off the muscles in Dean's chest and rolling down his temples in a way that made him want to lick the moisture off the other man. "You're oh, Christ ugggh so beautiful. Fuck."

Cas could feel his orgasm approaching and he moved one of his own hands from guiding Dean's movements to wrap it around the larger man's cock, mimicking the way the other man was stroking himself until Dean stopped and just put his hands back on Castiel's chest to steady himself as they reached a furious pace.

"Cas, sweetheart oh fuck," Dean groaned shutting his eyes and arching his back as the first ropy spurts of come shot out of his cock, striping across Castiel's chest and the bed as his climax overtook him.

It was the feel of the other man's hand on his cock that had pushed him over the edge, Castiel skin was just so much softer and his grip was so perfect and tight that Dean couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like when he finally laid his claim on the other man.

Castiel snapped his hips forward as Dean collapsed on top of him, pushing himself into the other man's heat that was still clenching deliciously around his cock from the aftershocks of Dean's orgasm. He groaned and babbled incoherently when he felt the other man reach around to gently squeeze his testicles before he was coming too, painting Dean's insides with his semen and digging his nails into the other man's hips in a way that he knew would probably leave marks, but right now he didn't care.

He had closed his eyes at some point, but Cas wasn't exactly sure when it had happened. He drew in shaky breaths and slowly pulled out of Dean, keeping his arms tight around the other man's waist so that his lover wouldn't try to leave. When he finally opened his eyes it was to Dean's wide, surprised verdant orbs staring at him, a shocked expression on the other man's face that had Castiel going over what had just happened so that he could figure out what he had done wrong.

"Cas?' Dean choked out, pushing up with his arms on either side of Castiel's face so that he could look at him. "Do...do you know what you just said?"

Castiel didn't, that was a weird little tick of his. Blurting out secrets in the middle of sex, he had once told one of his few college boyfriends that he sometimes liked to wear women's underwear and it had gotten very awkward for about a week before the other man had told him that he didn't date drag queens and broken up with him. Another time it had been about how scared he was of his dad dying and that had been a real mood killer, resulting in a tryst that had left him hard and confused and sad when his partner had bolted.

Dean's brow furrowed when he shook his head and he looked away like he was debating with himself before the other man scrubbed a hand over his face and propped his chin up on his fist looking at Castiel with a serious expression on his face.

"You said you loved me, Cas." Dean said, hoping that it wasn't some spur of the moment accidental think that would be rescinded.

He knew it was crazy to think that this thing he had with Castiel was already that serious, but Dean had jumped off the roof of his high school with just an umbrella his junior year and people had called him crazy then too. He hoped this impact wouldn't hurt as much as the one that had broken his ankle right before baseball season started.

Dean felt his stomach start to sink as Castiel remained silent beneath him, probably trying to figure out a way to explain away the declaration as endorphins or still not being fully awake in an effort to spare Dean's feelings. Cas must have heard it, what Dean had been saying to him before he knew the other man was aware of his touches. About how much he already cared about him and how he didn't mind being a secret as long as they were together. He wasn't expecting a bemused smile to quirk Cas's perfect, kiss-swollen lips or for the other man's blue eyes to get all big and sincere in a way that made Dean forget how to breath for a second.

"Because I do," Castiel replied simply, kissing Dean on the forehead and settling back into the pillows he was lying on like that was that.

"You love me?" Dean asked softly, his heart thudding painfully when Castiel just nodded his head beneath him and shut his eyes with a contended sounding sigh. "Well, um...I uh...love you too, Cas. God, we're psychos."

"As long as you don't stab me in the shower, I am fine with that designation." Castiel replied, cracking an eyelid at Dean and smiling before he made a stabbing motion with his hand towards Dean's side and mimicked the horror movie sound effect that went along with it.

"Speaking of showers..."

"No!" Castiel said tightening his hold around Dean's waist and burying his face in the larger man's neck. "Let's just stay here all day."

"Oh, trust me." Dean replied, reaching back to pry the other man's hands off. "I have every intention of calling into work tonight, Jo owes me for the favor I did her yesterday."

A cell phone started blaring 'Highway to Hell' from Dean's nightstand and the larger man automatically reached for it, thinking it was his before he remembered that he had changed his AC/DC ringtone to something that didn't remind him of Cas and climbing off of the other man to reach the nicer, iPhone that was farther away from where they were laying. He handed the phone to Castiel who took one look at it and groaned, slapping a hand over his eyes and kicking his legs around in the bed childishly.

Dean watched with an amused smile on his face until the other man answered and then he placed a soft kiss on Castiel's forehead, ignoring the pleading look the other man gave him before he wandered off to the bathroom.

"No, Crowley. I'm not at the house...where am I? At the gym, I just got done working out. The trainers here really ride you hard...yea...yea I'll call you when I get back to the house. Uh-huh, yes Crow. Yes, Fergus! Okay,bye."

He hadn't meant to be listening, but Dean had kept the bathroom door open as he cleaned up and brushed his teeth, wincing from the dull ache in his lower back that he knew would stay with him for the rest of the day. When Castiel finished up his call he popped his head around the door jam of his bedroom and saw that the other man had pulled his boxers back on and was sitting on the edge of the bed fiddling with is phone with a little frown on his face.

"Everything okay?" Dean asked, pulling his toothbrush out of his mouth.

"Yea," Castiel sighed, standing up and moving close to Dean, settling a hand on his neck and curling his fingers into the hair at the base of his head. "Do you feel up to taking a field trip today? Since you aren't going to go to work?"

"Sure, Cas." Dean said with a shrug, leaning into the other man's touch as the long fingers sifted through his hair. "Where are we going?"

"Well, you've shown me your place, twice now." Castiel replied raising a suggestive eyebrow at him. "How about I show you mine?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better late than never, right?. This is my first attempt at writing full-on slash so...I hope it doesn't suck. Anyway, this story isn't dead and hopefully I'll get it back on track now. Much love and kisses to everyone who is commenting, reading and subscribing. You're stars.


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel could see the question in Alfie's eyes, but his driver didn't ask it and not for the first time he was thankful that Crowley hired people who were discreet and tolerant to work closely with him. He used to think that people who could really care less about sexuality weren't all that hard to find, but when you tried to hire a genuinely good person to work for someone who was still mostly in the closet, well Castiel had just been surprised by how prevalent blackmail really was outside of movies and romance novels.

But the younger man didn't ask about why he was picking the actor up outside of the same apartment complex that he had a month before when they had first met and he had been threatened with having his tongue cut out by Crowley if he said anything to anyone about it. And he didn't ask about the big black car that had followed them out of the parking garage. And he didn't ask about why Castiel was sitting in the backseat wearing the same clothes that he had worn the night before, looking happy and smiling goofily any time his phone chimed out with a text message.

Alfie just talked about how much he missed his mom's cooking and Castiel was grateful for the commonplace chatter because it made everything seem so much more normal. Like he could really pull this off with Dean, have it all; relationship with a person he cared about and a career doing something that he loved. It was the American dream and he felt like maybe his slightly nutty grandmother on his dad's side had been right when she told him that one day he would be the reason why her parents had fled Soviet Russia during Lenin's rise to power, unknowingly allowing the Krushnic family line to avoid the much larger terrors of Stalin and Hitler that came only decades later.

He mused about the fact that a lot of the good things that seemed to happen to him and his family were mostly due to luck or being in the right place at the right time- his great-grandparents avoiding a labor camp, his grandparents surviving McCarthyism and the Red Scare even though they were fairly outspoken politically, his dad getting that fellowship in England when he was in graduate school and meeting his mom there, clicking because they were the only two American accents in the room. And he seemed to be the luckiest of them all, with the acting and landing this movie and Dean. Things that were too good to be true, but somehow still were.

Castiel's phone beeped in his hand and he looked down to see another text from the other man, even though he had asked Dean a couple of times now to not text and drive because he wasn't sure if his luck extended to the other man just because they were together. What would it take for fate to consider him an honorary Krushnic? Allowing him to be shielded under the same weird umbrella of good fortune that seemed to cover the rest of his family? He was pretty sure it would take more than just him saying that he loved Dean, but making a more public declaration of affection was off the table so he didn't want to tempt fate by letting Dean be reckless.

 **[May 31, 2013 11:26AM] D.W.:** When is your birthday?

He rolled his eyes and typed back a reply even though he knew that it would only encourage the other man to keep sending him messages, like he had been doing ever since they had kissed one last time in Dean's apartment before putting enough space between them to appear to be on just the closer side of friendship to anyone who might be watching him. Castiel felt like he really should have asked Crowley who had taken the pictures of him and Dean together to begin with, but now that he was back in San Francisco he didn't want to raise his agent's suspicions unless absolutely necessary.

The first text had come before they had even made it all the way down the stairs and Castiel was confused for a second about how he already had Dean's number in his phone, but when he had asked Dean had just smiled smugly at him and brushed some hair out of his face for him before heading off to the parking garage, leaving Cas to wait out front for Alfie to pick him up. It had been asking him his favorite color and while a small part of Castiel knew that once up on a time the answer to that question would have been purple, he knew without a doubt now that it was green, the specific shade didn't matter as long as it could be found in Dean's eyes.

They had spent the morning together, eating breakfast and talking about their families; telling each other embarrassing little stories from their pasts that had crinkles forming at the corners of Dean's eyes when he threw his head back to laugh. He climbed into the shower with Dean this time, ignoring how cramped it was because it just meant he was closer to the other man who he just wanted to take out and show off to the world so they could see that you didn't have to be rich and famous to be happy and proud of who you were.

They had just kissed then, the quarters were too close for either of them to get more of a grasp on each other besides hands wrapped around shoulders and cradling faces, rocking their hips together in a slow motion that still made him come when Dean groaned his name as he sucked a matching dark mark onto the larger man's chest, right below the base of his throat. The two of them had stayed there until the water started getting cold and his phone started going off again with another phone call from Crowley telling him that Naomi's agent had been in contact with him saying that the actress didn't want to see him on the set.

The Scotsman's response had been colorful and one of his more creative ones, but Castiel had known the other man long enough to be able to recognize him just ranting because his feeling were hurt, gently ending the call as quickly as possible and telling him to go buy a suit or something because that always made his friend feel better. Crowley was coming down at the beginning of next week when they started principle photography, after talking to Roche about his poor choice in costars the other man had taken more of an interest in Castiel's new project than he ever had before and he knew that meant that he would just have to keep his relationship with Dean even more of a secret than he had originally thought.

But since Crowley wasn't here yet, Castiel figured he should take the chance to show Dean the house his agent had rented for him because once the other man was here he didn't know when the opportunity to do so would arise again. They pulled up to the gatehouse of the affluent San Francisco neighborhood with the Impala idling in the entranceway behind them and Castiel knew that he couldn't go any longer without offering some sort of explanation to his friend when the driver gently told the burly security guard that Dean's car needed to be put on the list of visitor's to be let into the gated community for Mr. Collins with no questions asked.

"Alfie—" Castiel began, trying to think of some way that he could explain away his relationship with Dean as being friends, friends who wanted to spend all of their time together and sleep in the same bed and probably, eventually hold hands in front of everyone they knew. He had never felt so juvenile in all of his life.

"Jimmy, it's fine." Alfie replied shortly, looking back at him in the mirror as he drove slowly along the meandering curving streets of the neighborhood towards the houses that were closer to the shoreline, getting bigger and bigger with each one they passed. "You don't have to explain anything to me; everyone is allowed to have secrets. And, anyway, I just work for you right? You'll probably want to introduce him to your parents first. I don't even have to see him if you don't want me too, that's what you pay me for."

"Has Crowley been talking to you?"

The driver gave him a tight-lipped smile and pulled up to the sprawling two story house that the Scotsman had gotten for his client, pushing a button that he had attached to the visor above his seat in order to make the doors to the garage open, revealing Castiel's dark purple convertible Porsche that he had had ever since he was a teenager, working the worst jobs imaginable so that he could afford to restore it slowly with the help of his friends in Boston who knew how to work on cars.

"Darla was delivered last night, that way you can get around on your own if you like." Alfie said avoiding the question as he slid the towncar into one of the empty spaces in the four car garage, side-eyeing the Impala which rumbled in behind them, Dean climbing out and immediately going over to the antique car to check it over. "Mr. Crowley has gotten me a hotel room nearby so if you need to be driven somewhere just give me a call, besides that you'll have your privacy so you don't have to worry about me interrupting you or anything."

"Alfie, I'm going to let you in on a little secret." Castiel said, watching Dean with a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "I have exactly three categories of people in my life: people who work for me, people I work for, and friends. They are rarely mutually exclusive so yes, you do work for me. I sign your paychecks or my accountant does at any rate, but that does not mean that you aren't my friend. And I feel like I can trust you with this."

The younger man turned around in front seat, his expression warring between happy and scared; Castiel could only imagine the kind of tortures his agent threatened the driver with on a regular basis.

"He told me to make sure you didn't do anything stupid," Alfie admitted, biting his lip and glancing over at Dean who had climbed into the Porsche with a pleased expression on his face. "But I'm not going to spy on you, I think you should be allowed to have your own life."

"I appreciate that," Castiel said softly, people forgot sometimes that he was a person, not just a character; with desires and hopes for his future outside of winning an Oscar. "And you're not staying in some hotel that Crowley booked for you, this house is massive. Pick a room or if you want your own space then there's the guest house."

Alfie looked at him in an awe struck way and just nodded as the older man climbed out of the car, going over to lean against the Porsche so that he could try to coax Dean out of the vehicle and into the house.

"This is good," Dean said, twisting the shiny wood-paneled steering wheel of the car and smiling like a kid in a candy store. "Don't need to see the rest, I'll just live in the garage with Baby and you can bring me out a sandwich every now and then. You'll never even know that I was here."

"While I'm sure that Darla would appreciate the company," Castiel began smirking down at the man who's mouth had dropped open when he called the Porsche by the name he had given her. "I was kind of hoping that you would at least visit me inside every once and a while. The bedroom is supposed to be very nice."

"You haven't seen it yet?" Dean asked stepping out of the vehicle and giving it a fond pat before following Cas towards the door that led into a small mudroom that abutted the garage.

"Pictures," Castiel said waving a hand dismissively, smiling when he saw Alfie carrying a small suitcase towards the guest house at the back of the property through a window in the tiled room. "I just got back into town last night."

"Awww," Dean murmured, stepping in close and twining his fingers through Castiel's with a shy smile on his face. "And you came to see me first, you're a peach, sweetheart."

"Well, I will admit that my apology was received better than I had hoped it would be."

"What did you think I was going to do?"

"Pretty much what you did," Castiel replied tugging him into the kitchen which was equipped with the most beautiful, professional equipment he had ever seen. It was all shiny, brushed stainless steel and black marble counter tops, fully stocked and ready to feed far more people than just himself. "Yell, scream, hit me maybe. I wouldn't have blamed you, I should've told you everything from the beginning."

"Hey," Dean said, stopping the apology that Castiel was working himself into again, already having done so twice over the course of the morning.

The larger man pulled him close, casting a surreptitious glance over his shoulder before leaning into press their lips together in a kiss that was chaste and understanding. Dean pulled his lower lip into his mouth, worrying it slightly with his teeth causing Castiel to shiver from the intimate intensity of the moment because how could it already feel this good to be with someone he barely knew?

Dean pulled back, keeping their foreheads pressed together and his eyes closed as he spoke; giving Castiel a chance to marvel at how handsome the other man was again. "We ended up here, Cas. That's all that matters, we just took the scenic route a little bit."

"Okay, Dean." Castiel said, squeezing the other man's hand and leading him off to explore the rest of the house.

The kitchen led into a formal dining room that faced the back of the house, with it's view of the ocean outside of the wide bay windows, a feature that reminded Castiel of his own kitchen and breakfast nook back in L.A. and he smiled when Dean nodded approvingly because he could almost picture the other man eating cereal and drinking coffee with him as they watched the morning sunrise in his backyard.

There were two living rooms, one more comfortable and casual with overstuffed leather couches, sporting a large television and entertainment center with pretty much every gaming console imaginable that Dean just whistled softly at and the other formal one near the front of the house that had fancy oriental rugs and expensive looking furnishings that Castiel was pretty certain they would not be eating pizza on anytime soon.

The bottom floor finished off with a studious looking office, all dark oak furnishings with a large variety of books carefully placed on the built in shelves that lined the walls and a guest bathroom. The wide sweeping staircase, was the focal point of the foyer and Castiel regretted just a bit being too old to be able to slide down the polished wooden banister that curved along the side of it.

All of the bedrooms were upstairs, four smaller guest rooms situated along one side of the hallway and two bigger, master bedrooms along the side that faced the back of the house. The guest rooms were done up in tasteful, bland shades of tan and inoffensive browns all the way down to the towels in the bathrooms that joined each pair of rooms together. One master bedroom, Castiel knew Crowley would take, had probably picked out the house specifically because it was decorated with deep reds and blacks, dangerous and dark looking just like his manager liked.

The other, Castiel couldn't help but claim because Dean liked it immediately as well, plopping himself down onto the blue bedspread with a groan of satisfaction and looking around at the more understated but elegant, rustic looking furnishings that almost matched the ones that Dean had in his own apartment. Castiel imagined that this is what their house would look like if they lived together, the lighter green walls with bleached driftwood trim, making the room feel homey and lived in unlike the rest of the house that just seemed too neat and orderly.

Clutter was normal and it freaked Cas out a little bit that there was always someone coming behind him to clean up. That was part of the reason he had told Crowley not to bother hiring a housekeeper for the two months he would be living in the house while filming. If he couldn't handle going grocery shopping and doing his own laundry then he had really been living in California for too long. His mom had teased him saying he was high maintenance last time he had been in Boston when he had complained about the cold and how the bodega near his parent's brownstone didn't carry the type of feta cheese he liked.

His dad had just kept reading the same article in the paper over and over, forgetting how it started by the time he got to where it continued farther in the paper and getting frustrated by the whole endeavor before giving up. When he had heard about Dave dying it had forced Castiel to realize how bad things were actually getting with his dad and while he hadn't meant to start an argument, offering to hire some help for the aging couple had not been well-received. He and his mom had made up before he left, dropping dry, tense kisses on each other's cheeks at the airport while his dad stared blankly at the departure board, smiling confusedly and telling him to have fun at college when Castiel bundled the older man into a tight hug.

Castiel dodged Dean's hands when the other man tried to drag him into the bed, looking around the room for his suitcase so that he could finally change clothes and finding it in the huge walk-in closet. He could hear Dean wandering around the room as he quickly pulled on a new set of clothes, grabbing a comfortable black V-neck shirt along with a new pair of boxers and jeans to wear even though he was hesitant to take off the material that smelled faintly like Dean.

"Cas, dude, you have got to see this bathroom! I think it's bigger than my whole apartment."

He followed the sound of Dean's voice through the other door that led off of the bedroom and found the other man looking at all of the buttons and knobs that controlled the various settings on the shower with a line of confusion furrowing his brow. Dean had his hands on his hips and was bent slightly at the waist, but he straightened up when Castiel wrapped his arms around him, nuzzling at the back of his neck when the other man leaned back into him with a little shake of his head.

"This thing is more complicated than some of the engines I've seen, Cas. I had no idea that you were like, this famous. Maybe all of this is a bad idea."

"No, it's a good idea." Castiel replied, kissing the back of the other man's neck until he turned around in his arms and faced him, concern marring Dean's perfect features. "A very good idea, one of the best ideas I've ever had in fact. You're not getting scared out of this by a shower, Dean. We just won't use the shower, there's a tub. We'll pretend the shower doesn't exist."

"It's not just the shower," Dean said rolling his eyes and sighing, his shoulders sagging in defeat. "It's everything; the house, the car, you have a chauffeur, an agent who sounds like a super huge asshole, and a reputation to protect. I can't be worth giving all of that up for."

"If the situations were reversed," Castiel said seriously, pulling him out of the offensive bathroom that had dampened the other man's mood and leading him back towards the stairs as he spoke. "Would you think twice about doing the same thing for me?"

Dean's hesitance is what made him pause on the stairs, his heart leaping into his throat when the other man didn't immediately answer that yes, of course he would risk everything to be with him too. Did Dean feel it like he felt it? The way that everything about them just seemed to line up like two halves of a broken whole? Maybe it was all in his head and he was just romanticizing it, but soul mates were for fairytales and everything else wonderful that happened to him could be explained away by chance or fate, but this? People didn't just get this lucky for no reason.

He looked back to see Dean standing at the top of the stairs, his mouth turned down into a frown again and Cas had to go, get out of here before all of those years of acting classes betrayed him and he broke down into a sobbing, disgusting mess because even if Dean said no, that didn't change a thing for him and maybe that's why all of this was too good to be true. So he just nodded to himself and made a beeline for the kitchen as fast as he could, searching for something that he could do to hide his face and the hurt he knew was written all over it when he heard Dean call after him to stop.

"Cas, wait." Dean said, running a hand over his face as he walked into the kitchen to see Castiel with his head buried in the huge refrigerator, moving things around inside with purpose that seemed like a forced cover for something else.

He walked up to pull gently on the other man's shoulders so that he could see Cas's face.

"We can do um...burgers for dinner," Castiel muttered, not meeting his eyes and looking off towards the glass-paneled back doors that led to the sprawling back lawn and guest house. "There's a grill I think, Crowley said something about making bar-b-que for Roche...so just whatever you want."

"Yes," Dean said firmly, cupping the other man's face and turning it towards his own.

"Okay, do you know how to light a grill because I honestly have no idea. I'd probably burn my eyebrows off and then no one would want me."

"No, I mean I would do the same for you, Cas. If I had anything worth giving up, I would for you. I don't go telling every Tom, Dick, and Harry that I love them, those are big words to me and they mean something so I just want you to be completely sure."

"I'm sure, Dean." Castiel replied softly, licking his lips nervously and locking eyes with the larger man. "I mean, what's the point of having all of this if I'm alone?"

Dean nodded because he understood exactly where Cas was coming from, ever since he had met the other man and then lost him he had been feeling a nagging emptiness inside of himself, some part that was envious of every couple he saw walking down the street holding hands and god, once Meg had had E! News on in the background while he cooked, not wanting to start another season of Dr. Sexy without him and there had been a big to-do about Neil Patrick Harris and his partner taking a stand against DOMA and the whole debate surrounding it.

They weren't he most conventional couple either, doing everything backwards as his mom would say by getting engaged first and then kids and not even talking about marriage because David Burtka had said it wasn't a race to the altar, more like a marathon and Dean agreed. He had felt so desperately hormonal about the whole thing, looking up stuff about gay marriage and signing every petition he could find online in support of it, for the first time he felt like it was something he could think about and it didn't scare the shit out of him to think about forever in relation to him and Cas. The emptiness was gone with Cas.

He pressed a kiss to Castiel's mouth, moving his hands to the other man's hips and not even bothering this time to see if they were alone before he did it. Cas didn't seem too concerned about displays of affection in the large house and Dean was pretty sure paparazzi would have a hard time making it past the large iron gates that surrounded the community.

They had talked about boundaries that morning and pretty much everything they might do in public was off limits, all the way from something as innocent as putting an arm around each other's shoulders (something Dean had tried to argue with because he did that shit with Sam all of the time) to the things that would make it more obvious to anyone that was around they were more than friends like holding hands and kissing. But behind closed doors, Cas had said they were fine. Dean assumed that meant that the other man had no intention of letting him around his agent and from the one-sided conversations he heard Cas having with the man he was pretty sure he didn't want to meet Crowley anyway.

"Hey, guys." Castiel's driver came in, wearing a t-shirt and jeans with flip-flops and scrubbing a hand through his short blonde hair. Dean noticed that the younger man's eyes got wide when he saw them standing close, obviously having just been kissing before he walked in. "Whoa...um...nevermind. I didn't mean to interrupt or anything."

"No, it's okay Alfie." Castiel said, smiling around Dean's shoulder and pushing him away with a hand on his chest so that he could get the fridge back open and start pulling out vegetables that he could chop up to go on their burgers. "What did you need?"

"Well, uh...there's like no food in the guest house. I don't think they bought groceries for it since they thought it was going to be empty, I wanted to see if you two wanted to grab some dinner or something, but um...if you want to be alone..."

"I'm Dean, man." He said holding out a hand, feeling bad for the younger man who was so obviously bewildered about how he should be acting in this situation.

Sam used to get weirded out too when he saw Dean getting all cuddly with another guy and he knew that for some people it took some getting used to even if they had no problem with the idea of same-sex couples. It was like trying to pet a feral cat sometimes, people wanted to like you and trust you but since a lot of people had been force fed gay and lesbian stereotypes their whole lives they didn't know how to act around you. They were so worried about being offensive that it made interaction stilted and awkward, Dean had learned that the fastest way to get around that was to just be friendly, answer any questions and let the other person lead the conversation.

"Alfie," the younger man said sounding relieved when he shook Dean's hand enthusiastically. "Good to meet you. Um...so you guys already have planned something, right?"

"Dean is grilling burgers," Castiel said, shooting him an adorably endeared look that should not be allowed on anyone's face who isn't a teenager, but that's how Dean felt too, like a love-struck schoolboy and he was strangely fine with the long-forgotten feeling. "But you are more than welcome to join us."

"Oh god, my dad grills." Alfie said getting a far-away look for a second that he quickly shook off with a shrug and a smirk. "Mind if I help you?"

"Of course man," Dean said with a smile, searching through the cabinets until he found the pans and utensils he would need to try to replicate Bobby's burgers. "Just uh...if you'll get the patties together I'll go light the grill and Cas will get all of the fixin's carved up for us, right sweetheart?"

Cas saluted at him a little with the large knife he was using to slice the massive heirloom tomatoes he had found in the fridge and Dean wandered outside to the patio after finding a red apron that he slipped on over the green shirt he was wearing. The fact that the propane grill was less complicated than the shower in Cas's bathroom worried Dean just a little, but he tried not to think about it. Cas was in this for the long haul and so was he, so he needed to stop freaking out and let the other man be concerned about this for the both of them like he had said last night.

He could hear Alfie and Castiel laughing through the glass doors and the salty smell of the ocean so close to the house put him at ease in a way that nothing else had, expect for maybe the sound of Castiel breathing deeply in his sleep which Dean had indulged in listening to when he had woken up early and watched the rising sun play off the subtle highlights in his lover's hair. Dean shook himself out of his thoughts when he saw Alfie opening the backdoor with his hip, feeling foolish for already being so far gone on the other man.

"Okay, burgers!" Alfie said, holding up a tray of patties with little chunks of garlic and cheese pressed into the circles of meat. "Jimmy said the ones with feta are his, made some Crowley worthy threats about it so I'm pretty sure he's serious."

Dean scoffed and started carefully placing the patties on the heated grill, cocking his head when Alfie cleared his throat and pulled out one of the deck chairs that were sat around the glass-topped table on the brick patio.

"So..." Alfie began, making a vague motion with his hands like he what he wanted to say could be plucked out of the air. "You're...um...you and he are really going to try to get away with this, huh?"

"That's the plan," Dean said smiling at the younger man and moving to sit in the offered chair. "Cas said he's going to worry about the specifics."

"Is that like a nickname you have for him or something? If its personal, I get it...I was just curious." Alfie said trailing off and just looking out towards the water.

"What do you call him?" Dean asked gesturing with his chin towards the kitchen window that faced the backyard. "Mr. Collins? James? You know that's just a stage name, right?"

"Oh," Alfied replied his brow furrowing in confusion. "No, I didn't know. I guess a lot of people do that here...back home it was just nicknames so I though that's what you were doing. So is his name like Cassidy or something embarrassing like that?"

"Castiel," Dean answered. "Castiel Krushnic, don't even ask me how to spell it dude. I think it's like biblical or something at least that's what Google said when my friend Meg tried to find him for me after we first met."

"It's the name of an angel, mine is too. Samandriel." Alfie noticed the surprised look on Dean's face and just nodded, getting up and flipping the burgers with practiced movements like an old pro at manning a grill. "Yea, you see why I choose to go by something easier to say. Makes sense for him to do it too, I guess."

Dean just shook his head as Alfie moved to sit back down next to him. "All of the weird names they given kids these days, I'll never understand. So you're not from around here? Where's back home?"

"Oasis Plains, Oklahoma," Alfie replied, drawing the name of the southern town out with a twangy accent. "Middle of fucking nowhere. The biggest thing around is an Indian reservation which is kinda cool to grow up near, but dude the bugs were like radioactive meltdown massive. It's practically the desert."

Dean smirked at the younger man's description of his hometown, he probably would have focused on all of the negative things about Lawrence too when he was that age. Now he got a little homesick for the college town, missed watching games with Bobby and going to the drive-in with Sam and even all of the horrible little apartments he and his brother had lived it before finally packing up and heading West, looking for their fortune on the golden coast.

He should probably call Sammy and tell him about Cas, his brother would be happy for him, ecstatic even because he kept complaining about Bobby asking him when he was going to settle down and give him some grandkids. Sam said when hell froze over, but Dean knew that his little brother got hit on enough that eventually the right girl was going to come along and sweep the younger man right off of his gigantic feet.

"I've got everything done in there," Cas said coming out of the house with three bottles of expensive, microbrew that Dean knew the bar only carried in the VIP section. "Are you boys almost done out here?"

He watched as the other man handed one to Alfie before settling down in the chair closest to his own and holding one out towards him with a teasing smile on his face. Dean reached for it only to have it pulled back farther and farther until he was face to face with Cas's pursed, expectant lips and he had no other choice but to kiss the other man as he snatched the beer out of his hand with a triumphant smirk.

"Asshole," Dean murmured against the other man's lips before kissing him again and sitting back down in his chair.

"You love it," Castiel replied.

Alfie just rolled his eyes and got up to take the burgers off of the grill, "I get the feeling I should've stayed at the hotel."

"Don't worry," Castiel said taking a drink out of the bottle in his hand and gesturing towards the guest house. "Once Crowley gets here, we'll be making ourselves much more discreet on the kissing front."

An awkward silence fell over the trio at the mention of the man who was going to be the biggest obstacle to Dean and Castiel's relationship, but Alfie broke it when he started talking about wanting to learn surfing and being afraid of sharks. This problem Dean could handle, offering to teach the younger man the little he had picked up about the activity since moving to California, the rest he was going to let Cas worry about, at least for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holla guys n' gals! I'm gonna try to update this fic once a week, just whatever day I happen to finish a chapter. Yayish! Regularity and all of that jazz, I'm striving to be the Activia of the fan-fiction world. We'll see how it goes. Much love and kisses to everyone subscribing and bookmarking and commenting. I smile every little damn thing you crazy kids say. Its disgusting.


	7. Chapter 7

It turned out that Cas didn't know how to cook. Dean wasn't a rocket scientist or anything, hell he had only graduated high school because Bobby refused to let him drop out and help out at the garage in an effort to not feel like such a burden on the other man, but after the third time that the actor had set off the fire alarm it had become pretty obvious that Cas and Meg were two peas in a pod when it came to cooking.

The first time had been during their first night at the actor's house when Dean had stayed over and Cas had given him a running commentary of his episodes in _Dr. Sexy M.D.,_ telling him about the little quirks of all of the regular cast members and swearing up and down that he had really stolen a pair of Dr. Sexy's cowboy boots out of the props department, promising that he would show Dean when he came to visit him at his house in Los Angeles. It was the 'when' that had started the make-out session on the plush leather sofa that had resulted in Castiel burning the brownies he had been baking because they were both too distracted to remember to take them out. Dean had chalked that first time up as an accident and they had laughed it off before going back to kissing on the couch until they fell asleep together wrapped up in each other in the living room.

The second time was a couple of days later, days that had been agonizing because Dean couldn't miss anymore work if he wanted to save up that last little bit of money he needed for Bobby's plane ticket so he wasn't able to see Cas until Tuesday. He had just appeared sitting at one of the booths in the VIP area where Dean was working and Jess had taken a break to go return a missed call she had from her mom in Palo Alto. It had taken everything he had not to jump on Cas right there when the other man smiled at his shocked expression, looking amazing in a blue and white striped button down that was open at the collar and had rolled up sleeves.

The next morning, after Dean had spent the night showing just how very much he appreciated everything the color blue did for Cas, Dean had woken up to the other man shaking him awake with the most apologetic expression on his face as the fire alarm in the kitchen went off tinnily in the other room. The actor had been trying to make him breakfast and the blackened hockey pucks that Dean scraped out of his favorite frying pan might have once had aspirations of being pancakes, but after Cas had gotten done with them they were little more than paperweights.

His suspicions had started then, but Dean had kept them to himself because so far Cas was amazing at everything he did from backrubs to blowjobs to board games. Dean had yet to find one thing that he didn't think was incredible about the other man, so he wrote off the second time as Cas not being familiar with how his stove worked.

The third time was when Castiel tried to make some microwave popcorn at Meg's apartment. The other man had managed to find a copy of one of Meg's favorite movies, _The Legend of Billie Jean_ , on DVD and apparently this was a really big deal because his friend had insisted that they come over "right the fuck now" to watch it with her and understand the magic of the 80s. Dean had only agreed because Cas had promised a blonde Christian Slater co-star before the actor had gotten all late-90s crazy. He had always personally thought that the older actor was more of a badass in _Heathers_ than anything else, but Dean was going to be damned if he let Meg know how much he loved that movie.

Burning popcorn was the final tip-off though, because Cas had been right there watching it, seeming uber-concerned and anxious when Dean left him alone in the kitchen to go to the bathroom before they started the movie. When that alarm had gone off while he was washing his hands he had just sighed and smiled before shaking his head and going out to help the other man air out the apartment while Meg called in an order for Chinese food instead. The third time couldn't be explained away and Dean had just kissed Cas when he tried to stammer out an apology because it was just so unbelievably adorable.

So Cas couldn't cook and Dean found a perverse silver-lining in the whole thing because it meant that his partner wasn't perfect and he could finally believe the other man when he said that it didn't matter that Dean wasn't famous or rich. And also Dean liked to cook, had actually gotten fairly good at it while living with Bobby because it was all that the older man would let him do. His guardian had refused to not pay him for the work he did at the garage while he was in high school, stating that Dean needed money so that he could have a life and Sam was already doing all of the other chores for his allowance.

Dean had felt so much guilt for taking even more from Bobby after everything the older man had done for him and Sam that he had started cooking, starting out with learning how to make Bobby's favorite meals through recipes off of the internet and ripped out pages from the _Good Housekeeping's_ that his best friend Benny's mom read. When he had taken home-ec his junior year, Dean had thought that he would never hear the end of it from some of the guys he played sports with and it would just remind everyone that he was gay and it would start all of the homophobia that he had dealt with in junior high right back up again. But they had thought he was a genius and four other guys from the baseball team had transferred into the class once they realized how many cheerleaders Dean got to hang out with everyday.

So the week had passed in a blur of him and Cas spending as much time together as possible with Dean doing all of the cooking anytime he wasn't working and Castiel wasn't running around being handsome for photographers all over San Francisco as he got fitted for his wardrobe for the movie and rushing off to the places that Crowley barked at him to go to over the phone so that he could be seen with the right people and the hype for the movie could continue to build before they even started filming.

He and Cas had watched _Strangers on a Train_ together the night before, cuddled up in his bed while it played on his laptop and Dean had never seen it, but he liked it and picturing Cas as sweet, oblivious Guy was just so easy that it seemed like Hitchcock had written the role specifically for the other man; if Cas was older he could've been the original Guy and everyone would've been appalled that the remake was happening in the first place. But apparently Balthazar Roche was this amazing, revolutionary filmmaker who Dean had never heard of and the only question that he had seen floating around the internet was about whether or not he was going to do a cameo like Hitchcock used to do in his films.

There was a small contingent of people that were disgusted that Roche had chosen Naomi Tapping to play the role of the main antagonist, a role that had previously been male and now all of a sudden was filled by a woman. Feminists everywhere were lauding him for defying gender roles, but then again Cas had told him that a lot of people didn't know that it had been changed into a love story yet and when it came out suspense movie purists were probably going to boycott the film for that reason alone. It was something that he knew the other man was genuinely worried about and that's why Cas was freaking out about cooking now that he was having dinner with Roche while he was at work.

It was slow for a Saturday, much slower than Dean was used to and Meg was just as bored as he was so they were sitting around with Jo at the main bar, playing a heated round robin tournament of Words With Friends that Ash was currently dominating even though he was trapped in the VIP bar, still spinning tracks for the few people that were lingering in the space. He had gotten knocked out by the DJ in the last round when Ash had used the word 'overnumerousness' and Dean had made Jo look it up to make sure it was a real word before conceding defeat via text to the other man. Meg was playing him now and they were pooling their collective knowledge to try to stump Ash who really should be building atomic bombs somewhere and not watching overweight movie producers hit on aging starlets in a club in San Francisco.

Dean had been texting Castiel all night, complaining about how slow they were and walking the other man through how to make mushroom risotto to go with the rack of lamb that he had put into the oven at Cas's house before he left for work. He was pretty sure even Cas couldn't mess it up since he had set every timer in the kitchen and alarm on the other man's phone in order to remind him to take it out before Roche got there for dinner. He just fucking hoped that the director appreciated all of the effort that Cas was going to in order to thank him for offering him the role in such a big movie in the first place.

It was going to be the first time since Cas had surprised him by showing up at the bar that they weren't going to spend the night together, alternating between his apartment and the other man's house. Dean was not exactly thrilled to be sleeping alone and yea, the sex was fucking amazing, but it was more than that. He had already gotten used to having Cas there next to him, falling into an easy comfortable routine together that he couldn't believe he hadn't always had with the other man.

Dean didn't even want to imagine what it was going to be like when they had to go even deeper into hiding to spend time together; when Crowley showed up on Monday it was going to be torture. So far they had been able to avoid paparazzi, Alfie had some uncanny way of knowing where they might be lurking and the kid had driving skills that would put Paul Walker to shame, but Dean usually took a separate car just to be on the safe side anyway. He hadn't managed to talk Cas into letting him drive Darla yet, but he was pretty sure the other man was close to breaking on that; Dean just needed one sunny day and a picnic basket full of hamburgers and that Porsche was totally his.

They hadn't gone out in public together yet and it didn't even matter to Dean because he was going to enjoy their pseudo-domesticity for as long as he could, learn as much about Cas as possible to that he had all of the other man's little quirks to hold onto when the time came for them to be apart. He had told Sam about Castiel, at least the abridged version; leaving out what Cas did for a living when his brother asked because it was just too weird of a situation and he was pretty sure that Sam would bring up all of the little nagging details about how this was probably going to blow up in his face and for now Dean just wanted to ignore it because Cas just made him so fucking happy.

 **[April 6, 2013 8:12PM] Cas:** Alfie says this is the best rice he's ever had. You're amazing.

"It's more than just rice, sweetheart." Dean murmured to himself, ignoring the questioning look Jo gave him

Dean had fretted at first about what he was supposed to tell people when Jo and Anna continued to try to set him up with every gay guy they knew in the bay area and had even made the meek suggestion to Cas that he should keep up the charade for everyone at the bar because Meg and for some reason Jess were the only two people who knew that he was with the actor and he trusted that they could keep their mouths shut.

It wasn't like he wanted an open relationship or anything, but the other man had still gotten all stony and silent before he had shaken his head briskly and pinned Dean against the edge of the sink in Cas's bathroom where they had been brushing their teeth together before bed. His kisses had been hard and urgent and desperate until he had tuned Dean around with a possessive growl and bent him over the cream colored marble countertop next to the sink and prepped him with purposeful movements using the lube that Cas seemed to have stashed everywhere around the house.

He didn't think that sex with Cas could get any hotter, but when the actor had pushed into him fast and rough, gripping on to his hips and leaving fingertip shaped bruises on top of the ones that hadn't completely faded from their last impromptu encounter, Dean could do nothing but moan and mutter apologizes to the other man; promising that he didn't want anyone besides Cas.

It was the look of fierce need and vulnerability on the other man's face as he slammed into him that had Dean seeing stars, unable to look away from the fiery look in the other man's eyes as he came saying he loved the actor; only being aware of the soft kisses that Cas had placed on his naked back before he had been briskly pulled into the complicated shower and dragged off to bed, content in the arms of the only man he could imagine himself wanting anymore.

So for now, he just told the two girls that he wasn't looking for a relationship and he didn't even feel that guilty for lying because he wasn't really. Dean had already found a relationship and he couldn't wait to see the look on Bobby's face when he finally told his former guardian that he was ready to settle down; he knew the older man had thought that it would never happen and more than a few of his grey hairs could be attributed to his worrying about Dean's promiscuousness. He had told Bobby on numerous occasions that he had never been anything but careful and it's not like he could get knocked up or anything regardless Dean just knew that the older man would be relieved to hear that his wild days were over.

"That douchebag has got to be cheating," Meg complained across the bar from him, where he had was leaning as he thought of a reply to send to Cas. She tilted the screen of her phone towards him and he raised his eyebrows at the length of the words that Ash was putting together, the DJ had some serious scrabble skills. "Ask Clarence for some help, he probably read Shakespeare and all that shit so he's gotta have some awesome Elizabethan words stored away in that sexy noggin of his."

"Who has a sexy noggin?" Jo asked leaning over the bar to draw a beer out of the tap for one of the few patrons she was waiting on.

"Your mom," Dean snapped, smirking when Jo just rolled her eyes and told him she would pass along the compliment to Ellen next time they talked before walking away to deliver the beer she had just poured.

"Seriously though," Meg said lowly, leaning towards him and trying to peek at his phone that he was holding loosely in his hand. "How is your man's dinner thingy going? He burn his fancy house down yet? I haven't even gotten a chance to see it."

"Well, the guy is already running late." Dean said ignoring her comments about cooking related fires because she really wasn't in a place where she could say anything. "But I think he managed to pull it off, he is so nervous Meg. About all of it and nothing I say helps because he apparently idolizes the guy for some movie he made a couple of years ago and now he feels like indebted to the guy and stuff for giving him a role in his movie."

"You don't think it was a...um...casting couch situation or anything, do you?" Meg asked, her brow furrowing with concern when she saw the way Dean's knuckles went white from where his grip had tightened on his phone. "I mean that stuff happens, it does, Dean. You hear rumors of how people that no one has ever heard of get these amazing roles and then there's a big scandal about them sleeping with a producer or something."

"No," Dean choked out, shaking his head because Castiel was better than that.

Even his tiny part on freaking _Dr. Sexy M.D._ had shown that the other man had real talent and Dean didn't know why it had taken this long for someone to finally see it. He figured it was for exactly that reason, his partner had too much respect for himself to whore himself out for a role and it's not like he hadn't done anything since moving to California, Dean figured he was just choosy when it came to projects, waiting on something that he thought would suit him, right?

"Well you're a better person than I am," Meg said with a shrug. "I would be freaking out, Roche is like super hot and not really known for being picky when it comes to partners. The guy is all over the internet with models and actors draped all over him at red carpets and there is a rumor that his last movie ended in an orgy or something. But you know those gossip sites; they exaggerate the hell out of anything."

"Yea," Dean said weakly, glancing down at his phone when it vibrated in his hand.

 **[April 6, 2013 8:32PM] Cas** : FINALLY! He's here, fashionably late my ass. You are the only good thing about California.

Dean smiled, huffing out a half-hearted chuckle because now that Meg had put the idea of Cas and Balthazar Roche together in his head and he was going to be freaking out all night, but it's not like he could do anything about it so he just settled for checking one last time that Cas hadn't messed up the food

 **[April 6, 2013 8:35PM] Cas:** Alfie is getting the door so I can finish up. Lamb is out, rice is done, and I saw that pie in the fridge. I don't deserve you. I will save you some and bring it over when you get off work.

They hadn't talked about spending the night together and Dean had just figured that Cas would probably offer Roche one of the guest bedrooms in the house because he had already mentioned doing so since they were going to be going to the same places for work together everyday anyway. But he wasn't going to stop Cas if he wanted to come over and the small sting of jealousy he felt about his partner having dinner with the director was soothed by the offer. Dean had just started a reply to Cas saying that he would leave the door unlocked for him when he got home when his phone started going off in his hand again, playing the ringtone he had set for Alfie's number that he had programmed when he and the younger man started seriously talking surfboards and shark repellant.

"Alfred!" Dean answered, waving for Jo to come back behind the bar so that he could go in the back and take the call. Meg didn't say anything to him about answering his phone on the floor because she was too engrossed in her game with Ash to care. "Thanks for making sure Cas didn't ruin the dinner I slaved all day over. He told me Balthazar is there, the guy didn't like...dress up or anything did he?"

He was fishing and he knew it, but anything Alfie could say that was bad about Roche would probably soothe the irrational fears he was having about Castiel falling into bed with the charming Englishman. Dean just needed to hear that the director wasn't treating this like a date because if he was well, then he wasn't sure he could stop himself from driving over to Cas's house and kicking his smarmy ass right into the ocean before fucking his actor up against the nearest wall so that he could remind Cas just exactly who he belonged to.

"Mom, yea." Alfie blurted, his voice sounding high-pitched and nervous. "Just y'know, calling you like I said I would. I know that you worry."

"Dude, just because I cook for you it does not mean I'm your mom," Dean said flatly.

"Yea, you're cooking is the best mom." Alfie continued seemingly like he hadn't heard him. "But I can't talk long, I'm having dinner with my boss...Yea, mom Jimmy and Mr. Crowley invited the director he's working with to dinner."

"Duh," Dean said running an agitated hand through his hair and sighing heavily. "What's going on, man? Why are you being so weird?"

"No, Mr. Crowley is here too. He and Mr. Roche got here together so its a good thing Jimmy cooked enough food."

"Crowley is there?" Dean asked, the realization of why exactly Alfie was freaking out hitting him right in the gut.

The agent was early, two days early and there was no way that Cas had managed to erase all traces of the couple of nights Dean had spent there. He knew that he had left some clothes there, scattered across the floor of Castiel's bedroom and a couple of car and surfing magazines that he had bought when he had gone out to pick up the stuff he needed to cook dinner earlier. Those he had left on the coffee table in the less-formal living room and maybe Alfie could pass those off as his own, but the clothes were way too big to pass as the younger boy's. He should've picked them up before he left, but Dean had been running late and snagging one of Castiel's button downs to wear had just been easier and god, he knew that they had been tempting fate over the last couple of days, but this was just so fucking unfair.

"Yea, mom. He made rack of lamb...nope no mint jelly. I know, it's not going to be anywhere near as good as yours."

"Fuck you, mint jelly is gross." Dean snapped, tugging on the bottom of the denim button down he had borrowed because the usually chilly backroom suddenly felt a million degrees. "Listen, um...can I talk to Cas?"

"No mom, Jimmy's busy right now. Y'know entertaining and stuff, but I'll let him know you said hi."

"Shit, Alfie listen. You need to make sure that nothing of mine is out for Crowley to see. I have some clothes in Cas's room and I think that I might have left a razor there, a toothbrush. Just go and make sure that it looks like he has been in that room by himself."

"I know mom, I will." Alfie continued and Dean could dimly hear the sound of other voices in the background, two clipped accents with Castiel's low baritone peppered in. "But I have to go now."

"Alright, dude. Just tell Cas...shit..." Dean wasn't going to get the driver to tell his partner that he loved him and to not freak out, but he wanted to. He wanted Cas to know that he wasn't alone in all of this hiding bullshit, because now he had Dean, but he wasn't going to ask Alfie to pass on that little emotional message. "Fuck...tell him to text me if he gets a chance."

"Bye mom," Alfie said sounding slightly apologetic.

"Bye, Alf." Dean replied tightly. "And man, thanks for the heads up."

"Of course, dude." Alfie whispered before saying a final goodbye to his mother who Dean knew he did actually talk to most nights around dinnertime; the young driver was probably going to be his and Cas's best ally in keeping their relationship a secret.

He thought about texting Cas, but he knew that it would only stress the other man out more because he would be wanting to reply, but couldn't while Crowley was there. So Dean swung a fist at nothing instead, punching at the air because fuck, this being a secret thing was already a real pain in the ass.

* * *

Castiel's face hurt from smiling and his teeth hurt from gritting them together so that he wouldn't pull Crowley to the side and yell at him for showing up announced. Because really, if he did it would tip his agent off to the fact that he hadn't wanted him around for a specific reason and from there it would really take the least amount of snooping ever for Crowley to figure out that he'd had someone over to the house and that that someone was Dean.

The Scotsman had already been none too pleased to find out that Castiel was letting Alfie stay in the guest house, citing the fact that he had gotten the younger man a hotel room specifically so that he wouldn't bother Cas. He had his own suspicions that Crowley had done it in an effort to keep him isolated and focused on the filming that was coming up, because if he had to be honest with himself Alfie looked like the kind of person he would been falling all over in college and Crowley knew his type, that Southern gentleman thing was just what did it for him and it had been part of the reason why he had jumped at being on that stupid doctor drama in the first place. The actor who played Dr. Sexy had turned out to be painfully homophobic though, Castiel still hadn't found it in his heart to break that news to Dean yet.

Dinner had been less awkward and strained than he had thought it would be though, even with Alfie there underdressed and endearingly goofy in his faded Sooners t-shirt and the ripped jeans that he had washed the town car in earlier in the day. Initially he got a lot of compliments for the food from Balthazar, which just made his heart clench when he thought of Dean and how things were going to change now that Crowley was here, but then his agent had piped up saying that Castiel couldn't even make toast properly and he had laughed it off, claiming that he had catered the meal because it was what he knew Crowley would have expected him to do.

They made it all the way through dinner and a tour of the house before they had their first slip up and honestly Castiel had been surprised that it hadn't happened sooner. It happened in the garage and if he didn't love her so much he would've had Darla melted down for scrap for betraying him so heinously. Dean had been tinkering with the Porsche off and on all week, admiring the interior and the overall craftsmanship of the vehicle before delving into the engine and tuning it up, insisting that if Castiel was going to keep paying for things all the time then he could at least give the car an oil change.

He hadn't even realized that he had been doing that, paying for everything for Dean even though they rarely left the confines of either his rented house or the other man's apartment. But Castiel had, paying for take-out anytime they ordered it and having Alfie put gas into the Impala when Dean complained about having to drive the big black car the distance between their homes all of the time. He had almost offered Dean the use of Darla, something he never ever did because she was his baby and he only trusted a few mechanics in Los Angeles to even touch her, but the car was too conspicuous, too recognizable and flashy for him to let the other man be seen driving it around while the paparazzi were still trailing after him everywhere.

So she had remained in the garage, not gathering dust because when Dean wasn't busy polishing her and gazing contentedly at how Darla looked parked next to the Impala, then Alfie was giving all of the cars that were in the garage a thorough wash and wax in an effort to stay busy himself. Castiel was pretty sure the younger man was going stir crazy being cooped up with just him and Dean who had been fairly amorous over the last week, taking the opportunity to kiss and touch each other as much as possible before Crowley showed up and their time together was severely lessened. Castiel made a mental note to offer Alfie a couple of days off once he was deep into filming and didn't require the younger man hanging around in case he needed a ride somewhere.

Dean usually kept the garage very neat, it was pretty much the only place he actually picked up after himself and Castiel had been grateful that Crowley and Balthazar had been too busy making weird, cryptic inside jokes with each other to notice that Alfie had slipped off to stash away the few belongings that Dean had left scattered around the large house. But this one time, he hadn't and Castiel figured it was probably because he had enjoyed the sight of the other man being sweaty and greasy from working on cars too much, pulling him into the shower before Dean had to dash off to work late because Cas couldn't control himself around his partner.

The tools were sitting on the ground in between the town car and Darla and it was Balthazar who tripped over them, too busy inspecting the cream leather interior of the Porsche to notice them where they were pushed haphazardly half-way under the vehicle.

"And you do all of the maintenance yourself," Balthazar marveled, adjusting his deep V-neck shirt where it had gotten hiked up when Crowley had caught the other man before he fell. "You're just a regular Renaissance Man, James."

"Don't be daft," Crowley said giving his client a suspicious look. "James doesn't know the first thing about automobiles. He would probably just end up making the car explode if he tried to change the windshield wipers."

"That's me," Castiel admitted, biting his lip and wishing that Alfie hadn't ducked off to straighten up the guest house before Crowley decided to include that in the tour as well. "I'm hopeless when it comes to mechanics. No, this was Alfie's doing. Kid really knows a lot about cars and he offered to give the Porsche a tune-up."

Crowley hummed to himself and just watched as the director went to head back into the house, sashaying in a way that Castiel was pretty sure wasn't meant for himself since the two Brits had been dancing around each other all night. The reason for his agent's early arrival was fairly clear now and even though Cas wasn't sure what Crowley's type actually was, having never seen the other man show any interest in anything besides his car and work and making assistants cry, he knew that his friend found the director's sharp-tongued wit amusing and maybe it would prove to be the distraction he needed in order to keep Crowley off of his and Dean's trail.

Balthazar Roche was everything the gossip magazines made him out to be, charming and attractive and a hedonist if Castiel had never met one. A small part of his mind nagged that the director might end up hurting his friend if he let the flirting and the innuendos run their natural course, but he pushed it aside because Crowley was a big boy who could take care of himself and he had known the agent long enough that once he decided he wanted something then it was going to take an act of god to stop him from getting it. And maybe they would be good for each other, soften the sharp edges that both men were notorious for having and give Castiel and Alfie and everyone else a break for a while.

"Funny that Alfie didn't put down that he knew how to work on vintage cars on his resume," Crowley commented blandly, putting a guiding hand on Castiel's back between his shoulder blades as he led them back into the kitchen. "The Aston's been handling weird, maybe I should get him to take a look at it."

"Maybe you should," Castiel replied, tamping down the panic that had been looming over him all night and wishing for the millionth time that he could call Dean and hear his voice because it would calm him down.

His hands had been itching all night with the urge to pull out his phone and closet himself away somewhere so that he could have his freak out in private with Dean's gruff soothing voice talking him through it in that same no-nonsense way he had done when he had been trying to fight the smile off of his face before he had thrown the frying pan Castiel had ruined into the trash and just poured bowls of cereal for the both of them for breakfast instead. They should have talked about this, made plans about what they would do and how they would see each other once Crowley showed up because now it felt like he would never be able to see Dean again and that panic was worse than any stage-fright he had ever gotten in his life.

"Well the house is simply stunning, Crowley." Balthazar said from where he was standing leaned up against one of the counters with a glass of the wine that they had been drinking with dinner in his hand. "I hope you appreciate everything this man does for you, James. Most actors would kill for an agent like him."

"Shameless flattery will get you everywhere, Roche," Crowley replied as coyly as a man in an Armani suit could.

It took everything Castiel had to not curse his old friend up and down for being a big fucking hypocrite, but instead he bit his tongue until it hurt because he knew that the country wouldn't give two fucks if another Hollywood talent agent turned out to be gay and Balthazar had a reputation for being undiscriminating when it came to his partners' sex. Plus they were foreign so the Midwest housewives who followed celebrity gossip could rest easy since they weren't contaminating their good little American sons when they left home to be actors only to get turned into porn stars that knew their way around a dick much better than their mother's ever could. Castiel knew that's where a lot of unlucky, young actors ended up and he wrote off his own avoidance of that profession to just more dumb luck bestowed upon him for probably having been a dung beetle in a past life.

"Well, like I said Balthazar," Castiel said quickly, clearing his throat and hoping that it would be enough to break up the eye-fucking his agent was currently giving the other man. Is that how he and Dean looked at each other? No wonder Alfie and Meg were always so uncomfortable when they were just silently staring at each other. "The house is massive so if you would like to stay you can, I would be the only actor in history to get to live with my director while we're filming. How much closer to the project could I get?"

"Nonsense," the director replied, smiling roguishly at Cas and winking to Crowley before he strolled closer to stand right in front of him. "I hear that Tim Burton and Johnny Depp have a very unique working relationship too, Helena is very understanding of the whole thing."

Castiel tensed because the other man was standing too close and that sounded too much like a proposition and what the actual fuck was going on here? He figured it out when Crowley barked out a laugh, clapping a hand over his mouth when Balthazar complained that he had ruined the whole thing and hadn't they already talked about this on the way over. The agent crossed the room to lean into Roche, wrapping a hand around his waist and tugging him up against his side with something that sounded like a murmured apology, but got lost when Balthazar leaned down to kiss him.

"You guys are real funny," Castiel muttered, shouldering past the two men so that he could go to his room and hide in his bathtub and call Dean so that he could try to get over how totally fucking fucked up this all was.

"James we were joking!" Crowley called after him, shaking Balthazar off long enough that he could catch his client on the stairs as he made his way to his room. "Jimmy, listen. I know you're upset about all of this, but I didn't mean for it to happen. It just did."

"Well, what about when something just happens for me, Crow?!" Cas spat out, warning lights going off in his head because if he let his emotions get the best of him now then he would probably say something that would tip the other man off about Dean and that was bad. "You bit my head off about those pictures and now I'm just supposed to be fine with you fucking my boss. He could ruin me. If things go bad with you two everything will be over before it starts. Have you thought about that?"

Crowley stared at him dumbfounded, before dropping his gaze to his hands in the most defeated gesture that Castiel had ever seen the overly confident man make, shaking his head slightly. He heard the other man sigh heavily before moving past him to continue up the stairs to the dark red and black master bedroom that he had already deposited his bags in when he had first arrived, looking younger and happier with Balthazar in tow than Cas had seen the man look during their entire time together.

"He knew you would be upset," Balthazar's voice floated up from the foyer, causing Castiel to whip his head around from where he had been watching his agent's departure.

The Brit walked up the stairs slowly, pausing below Castiel with a wry smirk on his face as he reached out a hand to catch the collar of one of Dean's Henleys that he had worn in an effort to feel like the other man was there with him, carrying the weight of how difficult this all was even though they were apart. Balthazar's finger caught the soft material and pulled it to the side until the fading hickey that Dean had left on him was revealed, more of a sickly greenish-yellow color now that it had been over a week since the other man had left the mark on him.

"But I'm willing to wager fair money, that he would be upset too if he knew about this." Balthazar said raising a knowing eyebrow at him before tapping the spot in a business like way. "It's nothing make up can't cover up, just have your beau be more careful in the future and James, do try to cut Fergus some slack. He has your best interests at heart, I promise."

"And I should believe you why?" Castiel asked clearing his throat and trying not stammer out the half-baked excuses that he had been practicing in case something like this happened; Alfie had told him that for an actor, he was a pretty shit liar.

"Because I have his best interests at heart despite what you might have heard about me," Balthazar replied earnestly. "I'm not exactly the type of fellow to walk away from what I have with Fergus. Frankly, I'm mad for not already having married him just for the fact that he can put up with my temper tantrums, but I don't see any reason why we need to raise his blood pressure any higher than it already is. So if you can go easy on him about what a horse's ass he is being to you then I can look the other way when you go see the person you've been itching to see all evening. Deal?"

"You've been spending too much time with him if you're already making deals," Castiel muttered, feeling his heart race because if Balthazar could keep Crowley distracted while also slowly bringing him around to the idea of Castiel being allowed to have a relationship then this movie could be the thing that changed his life in more ways than one. "You aren't going to tell him?"

"It's the furthest thing from my mind," Balthazar said readily, heading up the stairs with a pointed look towards the bedroom Crowley had disappeared into. "Now if you'll excuse me, someone's feelings have been hurt and I know just the best way to make him feel better."

Castiel didn't want to stick around to hear Crowley having sex, honestly he never would've thought that a situation where something like that might happen would arise in the first place, but his life had never been predictable so why should it start now. He raced down to the garage, not even bothering to ask Alfie to be the one who drove him over to Dean's apartment because the keys to the town car were right there and Cas barely remembered to grab what was left of the lemon meringue pie that the other man had made before he was tearing out of his gated to community towards the Marina District. Dean wasn't even going to be home yet, but he had more skills on his headshots than just being able to speak Russian and period dance; lock picking just happened to be one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi babies! This is a big mad props shout out to Aliniah for being the only person to guess what movie Cas was going to be in. I figured a modern day remake of Strangers on a Train wouldn't be too far-fetched since it seems like they'll remake anything these days (Footloose? C'mon Bacon isn't even dead yet, rude.) Anyway, thanks for all the reads and all of the feels you give me when I read comments, I love them.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW fairly quickly here, guys.

"Alright, Cas." Dean sighed into the phone, climbing the stairs to his apartment slowly in an effort to make his conversation with the other man last. "No, its fine. I understand that you can't sneak out, its not like you're sixteen anymore."

Cas wasn't coming over, just like he had figured he wouldn't now that Crowley was in town probably watching the actor like a hawk for any sign of misbehavior. It didn't mean that he wasn't sore about it, because he was. He had wanted to spend as much with Castiel as possible before Monday when the shit hit the proverbial fan and being separated by the other man's overbearing nanny would stink to high heaven.

But he didn't want to make Cas feel guilty about it so he had waited until the other man texted him first before calling as soon as he got off work, wanting to hear the actor's voice before he collapsed into his big, empty bed all by himself for the first time in almost a week. Dean didn't know how well he was actually going to be able to sleep, but it had less to do with wearing himself out with Cas like had happened almost every night since they had decided to do this whole crazy, shitty hiding thing and more to do with the fact that he had gotten used to having another body that he could spoon up against throughout the night.

" _I'm sorry, Dean."_ Castiel replied mournfully as Dean trudged up the last flight of stairs to his apartment, counting each step that led him farther and farther away from the man on the other end of the line. _"If there was any way that I could be there, you know I would be. Entertaining Roche all evening has just worn me out though."_

"I get it, sweetheart." He murmured in reply, clenching his fists at the mention of the director who Meg had been pulling up pictures of on her phone all night, walking red carpets with amorous consorts of either sex.

Dean knew that she had done it in an effort to stifle the irrational jealousy he was feeling towards the Englishman for getting to spend time with Cas when he couldn't, but it had just made it worse; made picturing his actor in bed with the other man too easy for it to not make him see red just a little bit. He paused outside the door of his apartment, leaning his head on the door jam as he fumbled for the key that would unlock the door to the stark emptiness that awaited him on the other side.

"When will I get to see you again?" Dean asked, shutting his eyes against the answer because he knew that he probably wouldn't like it.

" _As soon as I can manage it,"_ Castiel said sounding just as torn up as he did and that shouldn't help, knowing that the other man was just as miserable as he was, but it did. _"But I have to go Dean, I think someone is knocking on my door."_

Dean smirked at the image of Cas hiding in the massive, sunken tub that was in his ensuite bathroom talking to him on the phone nervously and chewing on his lip in that way that he had come to find was one of his favorite quirks about the other man. The lip chewing and the head tilting just did him in like a punch to the gut every single time.

"Okay, Cas." Dean said sticking his key in the lock and turning, pushing the door open to reveal the darkened interior of his apartment with a resigned sigh. "Love you."

_"I love you too, Dean."_

He hung up the phone, looking down at the picture of the other man that he had set for when Castiel called, it was right after he burned those fucking pancakes and had a smear of batter on his face that Meg said did not look like something that innocent, but Dean knew what it was so he didn't really give a fuck if people thought he had pornographic pictures of the other man on his phone. It was his fucking phone after all. His picture for Meg was one of her dressed up as Princess Leia for Halloween, drunk as hell and yelling at Sam who had dressed up as a poor excuse for Chewbacca to Dean's Han Solo when they visited him in Stanford for the holiday.

Dean flicked on the light for his living room, smirking at the book of John Waters screenplays that Cas had bought for him on the coffee table when he had let it slip to the other man that he had never seen _Hairspray_. There was also one of Castiel's shirts tossed haphazardly over the back of his couch, left there the last time they had been too busy undressing each other to bother with silly little things like being neat or fixing the window blinds so the sunlight wouldn't wake grumpy Cas up first thing in the morning. The sight of that just made his heart twist and he tossed his keys onto the table by the door with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

He toed off his boots, leaning onto the breakfast nook heavily before glancing at the clock on his oven which showed that it was probably way too late to be drinking and he should probably just try to go to sleep instead. But Dean had never been one for taking things like time and future hangovers into account when he was feeling down, so he grabbed a beer instead; twisting off the cap and taking a long pull of the beverage before he headed towards his bedroom the fingers of his free hand carefully fumbling with the buttons on his borrowed shirt as he went because all he wanted to do was collapse face down into the pillow that smelled the most like Cas and hope that he didn't have dreams about his partner fucking some smarmy, entitled English guy.

What he hadn't been expecting was seeing Cas sitting on his bed, feet dangling off the edge and leaned back on his elbows like the most beautiful jungle cat in existence, sporting nothing but an amused smirk, his glasses, and a pair of pink satin panties. Dean's pink satin panties to be exact. The pair that he kept hidden under everything else in the top drawer of his dresser, hidden even better than his dildo and his anal beads that he wasn't shy about anyone finding because before Cas no one had ever ventured into his nightstand next to his bed but him.

If he hadn't just swallowed the beer that had been in his mouth, Dean was pretty sure he either would have choked or done the most hilariously accurate spit-take that anyone had ever seen. But as it was his mouth just fell open instead, tightening his grip on the bottle in his hand unconsciously which was probably for the best since he didn't think that cleaning up a shattered glass bottle was going to be on the top of his priorities list right now.

"Guess what I found?" Castiel asked teasingly, swinging his feet slightly as Dean raked his eyes over the other man, trying to decide if this was hot or an invasion of privacy or just really fucking hot.

"A way through locked doors?" Dean asked, surprised that his brain was functioning still when it felt like all of the blood in his body was trying to decide if it wanted to race to his face for the hardest blush of his life or to his dick because he was already leaning more towards hot than embarrassed about the other man having discovered pretty much his one and only weird kink.

Castiel pouted slightly on the bed, fluttering his eyelashes at Dean in a way that was so incongruous with the man he had gotten used to fucking him fast and hard into anything he could press Dean up against over the last week. The other man had never bottomed for him and it didn't really bother Dean very much because Cas was very good at the things that they were already doing, but seeing his actor stretched out and wanton looking in his panties, the ones that Dean only wore when the dry spells got really long and simple fantasies were just not cutting it anymore, it made that primal part of him that liked to claim and own and mark Cas growl possessively from one corner of his mind.

"Y'know I like lace more myself," Castiel said tauntingly, slipping a finger under the snug fitting fabric and popping the waistband that was riding low on his hips against his smooth, muscled skin. "But satin is nice too."

Dean groaned softly, feeling like his brain was short circuiting and willing himself to move towards Cas so that he could kiss the other man senseless because it wasn't even his birthday and this was still the best surprise he had ever gotten. He was debating silently to himself about whether that was because he was getting to see Cas like this when no one else did or just because he was seeing the other man at all when he hadn't been expecting it when the actor got off the bed and moved towards him, taking the beer bottle out of his hand and setting it carefully on the dresser before he started kissing Dean's neck, sucking on all of the spots that made his cock twitch and brought him out of his shocked stupor.

He let his eyes roam down the other man, skimming his hands over the muscles that moved under the skin of Castiel's shoulders and back, bringing them down to his hips so that he could push the other man off of him and fully appreciate the sight of his partner in a tight-fitting pair of satin women's underwear. They were snug on the other man's body, just like they were snug on Dean when he wore them enjoying how the material felt as it slid over his skin even though he usually only wore them when he was alone because there was no way in hell he was going to go out in public with the raging hard-on he always got when he was in them.

The material clung to Cas like a second skin, curving over his ass and past his hipbones until it met the insistent bulge of the other man's arousal pressing hard into the fabric that outlined every detail of his partner's thick cock; the head that was already leaking precome making a darker, damp spot on the light colored material, the way it curved slightly towards the right, the pulsing vein that ran along the underside that always caused Castiel to moan when Dean ran his tongue or his lips over the heated flesh of his partner, the way his testicles were pulled up tight and taunt at the base because of arousal and for the simple fact that the constricting fabric didn't allow for them to be in any other position.

"See something you like?" Castiel asked hooking a finger through the last couple of buttons on the shirt that Dean was wearing and popping them open before he could register more than how the brush of the other man's touch on his skin felt like white hot metal burning him and branding him as belonging only to Castiel.

Dean swallowed hard and nodded, letting Castiel push the shirt off of his shoulders and onto the floor, tugging him back towards the bed by the waistband of his jeans with a self-satisfied smirk on his face before he dropped back down to sit on the edge of the bed and started working open the buckle of Dean's belt, glancing up at him disapprovingly when the red boxers he was wearing were revealed.

"I have to wear underwear sometimes, Cas." Dean protested, speaking for the first time and of course it was something fucking snarky and sarcastic that just caused the other man to chuckle at him before leaning in to mouth along the curve of his erection, sucking on him through the coarse fabric and causing Dean to buck desperately into the other man's touch.

"Shit, Cas!" Dean groaned, fisting a hand into the dark hair that he loved almost as much as the lip biting and the head tilting, watching as the other man peeled his boxers down his legs until they puddled around his ankles with his jeans. "Fuck...how long have you been here?"

"Long enough to snoop," Castiel murmured, running his lips over Dean's length, swiping his tongue out to lave over the swollen head and gather the precome that had beaded at the tip.

His glasses were slipping down his nose and when Cas looked up at him over them Dean thought he was going to come right there, this was all of his teacher and librarian fantasies paired with his secret kink and he didn't know how long he was going to last with Castiel stroking him and teasing him wearing those fucking panties before he came all over the other man's chiseled face in a way that would make porn stars jealous. Dean let out a strangled gasp when his partner bobbed down on his dick, taking in more on that first pass then should be humanly possible, before pushing Castiel down and back onto the bed, kicking out of his jeans and pressing his mouth hungrily against the other man's, tasting salt and rain and all of the little things that made kissing Cas unique and addicting.

Dean ground his hips down against the satin covered ones of the other man, reveling in the feeling of the cool fabric against his heated skin before he decided that as much as he liked how that felt he would like being pressed against Castiel with nothing between them better. He pushed the panties down as quickly as possible, not even caring when he heard them rip in his haste to get them off and slotted his cock against Castiel's who was keening and whimpering deliciously into his mouth, raking his short nails down his back and over his ass, pulling them closer and tighter together as they thrust and sought to lose themselves in each other.

"God, sweetheart," Dean panted pressing his forehead against Castiel's and fighting back his orgasm so that he enjoy this before it was over and he had to start questioning how Cas had managed to sneak past Crowley, what deals with the devil had he made to pull this off? "You're so fucking sexy...want you so bad..."

"Fuck me, Dean." Castiel groaned, using that filthy perfect mouth to his benefit because he knew that it drove the other man crazy to hear him talk like that. "I want you inside me...want to...fucking hell...feel you come."

Dean didn't think that he had ever moved faster in his life, diving across the bed towards his nightstand and pulling out the lube that was nestled there against his sex toys and the box of unopened condoms that he and Cas hadn't ever bothered to use. Most of the time it was so spur of the moment that the last thing Dean wanted was to wait while the other man fumbled with the latex barrier that would keep him from feeling Cas come apart inside him. He knew that he was clean, the dry spell leading up to his first time with Castiel had allowed him plenty of time to get tested like he had taken to doing every couple of months, just in case even though with his one night stands he always used protection.

Something about sex with Cas felt different though, like it was permanent and life-altering and even if this didn't work out how he hoped, Dean wasn't sure he would ever want someone in the same ways he wanted Cas again. He trusted that Castiel would have told him if he needed to worry about a STD or HIV, what kind of gay man didn't tell their partner about that kind of thing before going bareback?

A fucking psychopath, that's who. An inconsiderate, asshole who didn't care how many people he took down with him on his path to self-destruction. Dean had met a few of those in his time and he had run as far and as fast as humanly possible, to this day he still wondered how close he had come to getting some permanent affliction and Bobby's fears for his safety didn't seem so absurd then.

But Cas wouldn't do that to him and Dean felt safe enough to make love to the other man without fear of catching something because that's just what this was, love. In its most sincere form, uncovered and open and trusting to the point of stupidity probably, but that still didn't make him grab a condom before pulling Castiel back into another kiss, settling the other man's muscled legs around his hips before he trailed his lubed slickened fingers down to his partner's entrance.

He tried to be gentle even though the animalistic part of him was screaming out and telling him just to drive himself as deep and as hard as he could into Castiel, claiming him in the most intimate way possible, but Dean didn't; taking his time to marvel at the way Cas's body adjusted to the intrusion of first one finger and then a second, making needy adorable sounds that had him kissing softly at the other man's neck and collarbones, being tender because he knew how much the other man might already be hurting.

Cas didn't hiss in pain until he slipped a third finger in, stretching and urging the tight ring of muscle to relax so that it wouldn't hurt as badly when he finally pushed into the other man. Dean paused then, brows furrowing when he saw how his lover was biting his lip in a way that was not endearing and cute, but masking the ache that Dean had long ago gotten used to when he got fucked by guys who looked like they wouldn't be shy about driving into him hard, but usually disappointed him.

"Sorry," Castiel forced out, letting out a heavy breath and rolling his hips down onto Dean's hands with a determined look on his face. "It's been a long time since I've...y'know."

"Yea," Dean nodded, swallowing back the emotion because if it had been a while since Cas bottomed then that meant that he didn't usually even though his suggestive smirks and leading comments had always said differently. "I kinda guessed that, sweetheart."

Castiel let out a self-deprecating chuckle, looking anywhere but at Dean. It was that bravado of James Collins coming out, hiding how much this actually meant, letting Dean take him in this way because he wasn't used to giving up control like that. Dean leaned down and kissed all of the parts of Cas's face that he could reach, ending up at his mouth where he muttered the words and endearments that he knew would bring back out the man he loved instead of the character that he pretended to be for everyone else. He smiled when he felt Cas relax against him, sliding a hand into his hair and nodding that he was ready when Dean asked him.

Dean grabbed more lube, spreading it over his painfully hard cock before lining himself up to Castiel's loosened hole, pushing into the other man at a snail's pace so that he could adjust to the larger pressure that was filling him. The other man was just so tight and the feeling of being buried in Cas was so overwhelming that the slow pace helped Dean too, forced him to grit his teeth and tamp down the lust that was telling him it would only take a couple of hard, fast thrusts before he was spent, before he could reach that beautiful, blinding plateau of his arousal and fall into his orgasm in the next breath.

But he didn't, instead he held onto one of Castiel's thighs firmly, keeping the other man in the position he wanted him and sliding his other hand up to cup his lover's face reverently when he bottomed out inside of him with a soft slap of his balls against the other man's body. Dean didn't move until he heard Cas's breathing even out, saw his features slip out of the half-pained, half-pleasured expression that they had fallen into and relax into that quirk of full, pink lips that he would never not want to kiss even if a thousand paparazzo's had their cameras pointed at them, ready to make Castiel's career dissolve back into nothingness with a single, fateful click.

"Okay, Dean." Castiel breathed beneath him, running his hands soothingly over the muscles in Dean's back that were shaking from the effort it was taking him to not move and claim and take and own. "Go, I'm good."

He pulled out just as slow as he had pushed in, groaning when he felt muscles clench around his cock, trying to keep him inside the hot cavern that was Castiel's body. Dean heard Castiel moan beneath him, pushing his head back into the pillows and arching his back when he slid home a little more forcefully than the first time, increasing the pace and intensity of his thrusts until he was pounding solidly into the other man, searching for the angle that would make all of this worth it for Cas.

Dean hiked Castiel's leg higher up on his hips, feeling the other man's heels dig into the base of his spine when his lover let out a low groan and clutched at his bicep like it was the only thing that would keep him from drowning. Cas's other hand moved down between them, running over Dean's chest pausing long enough to roll the larger man's nipples between his thumb and index finger before he wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking it in time with Dean's frantic thrusts.

"Fuck...Dean, yes right fucking there," Castiel muttered, hot and gravely in to his ear before nipping his jaw, grazing his teeth along the stubble in a way that just made Dean growl in reply because speech had long ago abandoned him when he surrendered to his more primal need to make Cas cry out his name and writhe beneath him.

It had never been this strong before, the need that he got with some of his partners to make sure they never forgot him; to mark them and write his name on their skin so that everyone else would stay the fuck away from what was his. Dean pressed his mouth to Castiel's pulse point, sucking softly at the thrumming vein beneath the other man's skin; fighting back the urge to leave tell-tale bruises up and down the other man's pale neck because how the fuck would it look if he went into film on Monday with hickeys all over him and where would Cas tell Crowley he had gotten them?

He settled for keeping his mouth pressed there instead, feeling the heartbeat of the other man through his lips and around his cock and against his chest even though the sensations all started to blur together because his own heart was racing too.

"Cas, baby." Dean panted against the other man's skin, feeling his lover meet his thrusts with desperate whimpers as his hand flew over his cock between them. "Shit...tell me you're close, sweetheart, tell me you're fucking close."

"Jesus fuck Dean..." Castiel murmured gruffly, turning his head and breaking Dean away from where his mouth was against his neck so that he could kiss him, biting hard at his bottom lip and plundering his mouth with his tongue in a way that he could never do exactly how he liked when he was pounding into Dean from behind.

Cas thrust into his hand, slick with precome and sweat, grinding his hips down onto Dean's cock with the neediest of whines that warned the other man as he came spilling all over his fist and both of their abdomens as Dean drove against his prostate with a possessive strength that made him more sure than ever that this was right, that what he had with the bartender was worth all of the trouble that all of this was going to be in the long run and that every single one of his few boyfriends in Boston had been wrong when they said he wasn't worth waiting around on; waiting until he gave up the pipe dream of acting and finally picked a real job.

He felt all of his muscles clenching around Dean, pulling him in and urging him deeper when he came and rode out the aftershocks as the other man rocked his hips into him through Cas's orgasm and afterwards when Dean groaned above him and buried his face in his neck, coming with sudden throbs against his oversensitive prostate that made the actor gasp brokenly against the other man's hair.

It was just so much, all of the feelings; not just the physical ones like the gentle, sleepy kisses that he got from Dean or the way the other man was even now running his hand softly over his thigh and up his hip to stroke his side as he gasped for breath against his neck still buried in him and connecting them so their hearts beat in tandem. But it was the way that even hearing Dean's voice made his heart soar, how the dumbstruck look on the other man's face when he had walked in the door and found Cas already waiting there was one he wanted to see in settings that were less lust-fueled and frenzied, more domestic. Like maybe watching Dean open a Christmas gift that he hadn't been expecting or seeing the other man's eyes widen when he thanked his partner in his acceptance speech if he ever won an award that meant something. Castiel had never wanted to do those things with another person so badly in his life.

When Dean moved off of him, rolling to the side and pulling Cas with him, snug against his chest with an arm wrapped loosely around his shoulders, Castiel tried not to glance at the clock on Dean's nightstand. Tried not to calculate how much longer he could stay before he had to go back to the house and Crowley and Balthazar, pretending that he wasn't in love with someone he shouldn't be and acting like it wasn't the hardest thing he had ever done to be away from Dean. But he did, squinting through his glasses that were smudged with impressions from both his and his partner's face when they had kissed during sex.

He knew the exact moment when Dean came to the same realization above him, the resigned sigh and the slight tightening of the other man's arm around his shoulder made him want to say fuck it, call Crowley and tell him to shove his hypocritical bullshit right where it counted, but he knew that the other man wasn't going to let him sabotage his own career because it was Dean who pulled him out of the bed and pushed him gently towards the tiny, much less complex shower.

Dean who was wordlessly waiting in the living room with his clothes folded neatly on his lap and looking like someone had just run over his puppy when he got out. It was Dean who kissed him like he wanted to breathe him in, even though Castiel still didn't know how someone could smell so much like home without ever having been to the East coast. They said goodbye to each other softly, muttering more declarations of love than either of them ever had before when they had been parting company with one of their past boyfriends.

It took twenty minutes more than it should have for Cas to get dressed and out the door of the apartment, just smirking in response when Dean asked him again how he had managed to get in without a key and turning down the offer of being walked to the town car because he hadn't parked in the parking garage in his haste to get into the building before Dean got home and Castiel didn't know if he could stand to say another goodbye without kissing the other man for good measure too.

The drive back to the house and his overbearing agent who was fucking sleeping with the man who was going to be his boss for the foreseeable future should have been miserable, but it wasn't because Dean kept texting Cas weird little things like a screen shot of a Words with Friend's game taken very seriously and his horoscope for the next day, which said he would meet a helpful stranger.

He had found out that that first stream of texts from the other man, asking for his birthday and other various details had been so that one of the bar's regular's, an astrologist cum psychic named Pam, could do a compatibility reading for him and the green-eyed Aquarius. Cas and Alfie had made fun of Dean all week for being so superstitious, earning a scowl from the bartender who told them to laugh it up, he didn't like to leave things to chance. Castiel had filed away the memory of Dean tossing spilt salt over his shoulder while he cooked, vowing to himself that he would never again open an umbrella indoors as long as he was with the other man.

Sneaking back into the house wasn't hard at all, even less hard than breaking into Dean's apartment had been and no one had been around to hear that. He covered his ears and speed-walked as fast as he could down the hallway towards his bedroom, blocking out the sounds of Crowley and Balthazar who must know some insane tantric trick if they were still going strong hours after he had left to go see Dean. His last text from the other man had been gibberish, the only real words being 'pie' and 'loveyousofuckingmuch' all strung together, rushed out in the same way that his partner would have said it right before pulling him into a lemon meringue flavored kiss.

Castiel debated about whether or not to call Dean one last time before trying to go to sleep in the bed that felt obnoxiously massive without another person sharing it with him, but he was scared of Crowley hearing him talking to someone through the door, barging in without knocking like he was wont to do and catching him being sentimental and love-struck on the phone with Dean. So he didn't, stripping off the clothes he had been wearing and rummaging out one of Dean's shirts that Alfie had squirreled away at the bottom of his laundry hamper while Cas had been giving the two other men a tour of the rest of the house.

He fell into bed wearing it, feeling more than a little like a silly schoolboy and wondering exactly what it was going to take before the urge to be wrapped up in Dean faded away; hoping that it never would as he drifted off to sleep with a contended smile and the smell of autumn all around him.

* * *

The fact that this was a profession amused him, brought something that was as close to a smile to his face as his thin, grimace bound lips could muster. It was ridiculous, laughable; something that self-obsessed twenty somethings did when they were busy wasting their working class parent's money on courses like 'Perspectives in Subject Expression' and 'Through the Fish Eye: A History of Lens Technique'.

But it suited his purposes, allowed him to get close to the people he wanted to get close to without being noticed.

Family inheritances were created for black sheep like him, to keep them quiet and out of the limelight that the people he took pictures of craved. Their privacy was worth less to them than the paper that the trashy gossip rags that lauded their exploits were printed on. The innocent people that they dragged into their lives only to be cast aside later when they had served their purpose were what really interested him, helped him find the perverse satisfaction that he craved in the tears they shed when the actors and actresses eventually left them to move on to something better and bigger and just as famous as they were.

He hadn't been doing this for long, the whole paparazzi thing. It was more of a way for him to kill time, stave off the boredom until he found what he was looking for. He had never been very picky about his toys, he just liked for them to be pretty and stupid and too naive to realize that they were in over their heads. No, he hadn't been doing this for long. But he still loved being the one who knocked the liars off their pedestals, sending them crashing down into the teeming mass of humanity that enjoyed watching them fall just as much as they envied seeing them soar.

* * *

She kept her head down, she did what she was told. She kept her dang nose clean, at least now she did after that whole to-do with Richard Roman Enterprises back in Chicago had made her pack up and hit the road again, choosing England because even though they extradited, the Brits seemed a little more sympathetic to the whole Robin Hood thing she had been trying to pull off by funneling money out of the company's shady off-shore accounts and into various charities that she liked.

It had worked, Dick's accountants had only found out about the donations to more obvious culprits like PETA and Share Our Strength and Greenpeace, not about all of the hundreds of other little organizations that she liked. The ones that rebuilt cities in third-world countries and gave out vaccinations to kids in Africa, Charlie was still pretty proud of the fact that all of those were still receiving anonymous donations every quarter courtesy of the sleazy businessmen that she used to work for. And it's not like the multi-billion dollar corporation could rescind their donations to the bigger charities if they wanted to save face about being bamboozled, so even those still got their money.

It was even worth killing off her old identity of Julia Shelley to pull the whole thing off and now she was content to work for an eccentric British filmmaker because really, she deserved a frackin' break from being the only vigilante do-gooder that she knew of. What she hadn't counted on was ending up back in the states, trailing after her boss with a pained expression because the last thing she needed was to get recognized and hauled off to a dungeon in Dick Roman's basement somewhere.

And she really hadn't expected to end up in the kitchen of the founder of one of the charities that she supported, flipping French toast for Balthazar because it was the only dang breakfast food she knew how to make and he was just going to have to buy her some freaking cookbooks if his new boyfriend was getting tired of it. Not that she had known that she was standing in the kitchen of James Collins, also known as Castiel Krushnic, also known by Mishka but that was just by his paternal grandmother who was Russian and used to call him her little bear.

What? Charlie was just very good at snooping in people's lives. It was what she had made a living at for a long stinkin' time, supporting herself after her parents died in a car accident when she was sixteen and she created her first fake identity, Elena Torrance, a homage to Stanley Kubrick that almost got her arrested by a very nerdy policeman in Phoenix, when she had let an ex-girlfriend talk her into testing out exactly how genuine her fake ID looked at a bar there.

She hadn't even known it was his showy, frankly so big it was borderline offensive house until he walked into the kitchen with his hair all sleep mused, scratching at the stubble on his face as he yawned and stretched in a faded, oil stained Led Zepplin shirt. When she realized who it was, she panicked just a little bit not because he was pretty much her favorite underrated actor of all time right after Lizzy Caplan who she just thought was beautiful and ballsy and brave, but because _he_ freaked out; flinching so hard that he dropped the phone that he had been smiling down at in his other hand and jumping about a foot into the air.

"Who the ever loving fuck are you?" James Collins, freaking selfless saint of a man that he was (he had done that bee documentary for practically nothing after all) asked in a sleep-strained voice looking at her like she was about to axe-murder him with the spatula she was holding.

"Charlie," She muttered weakly, dropping the spatula and waving at him meekly from the other side of the kitchen island separating them. "I...uh...work for Mr. Roche."

She fought off all the questions she had for the other man like what was it like to be on a first name basis with Christopher Nolan (who even Charlie had met once at some brunch thing that Balthazar insisted he needed her at, but she hadn't talked to him because he bossed around Batman for Yoda's sakes!) and why hadn't he come out of the closet yet because even she had found out that he was gay within like twenty minutes of intensive Googling so it was just a matter of time before at least one reporter stopped being lazy and asked why he hadn't been snatched up yet. Charlie pushed away those questions because her year working for Balthazar had taught her that famous people were notoriously skittish so she had perfected a way of approaching them like they were frightened bunnies, slow and soothing and bearing food.

"I'm making French toast. Do you want some?" She asked gesturing towards the large stack of golden, toasted bread that she had already finished and the assorted toppings she had picked up at a farmer's market on her way over to the address that her boss had texted her.

James (Jimmy? Castiel? What did he go by when he was at home? The necessity of stage names had never sat very well with her, but Charlie figured she wasn't one to talk since it's not like Charlene Bradbury was her real name either.) looked at the food warily, eyeing it like the poison that she must have put into could become airborne at any moment and kill him where he stood. Charlie picked up a piece that had mostly cooled out of the middle of the pile and took a big bite out of it, smiling around the mouthful of food when the other man nodded to himself and moved to grab a plate that he loaded up like he had never seen a home cooked meal in his life.

But that couldn't be right either. There had been dishes in the sink when she got here and more in the dishwasher when she had gone to load the ones she rinsed, enough that it suggested that the actor could cook or maybe that someone had been cooking for him. She inner fan-girled just a bit at the thought of meeting James friggin' Collins's boyfriend, there weren't a lot of openly gay celebrities in America, not nearly as many as there were in Europe and Charlie didn't think there was ever any chance of her meeting Ellen DeGeneres because then she would just have to die of happiness.

But this could work, this would do. Charlie spotted a blonde head bobbing around in the backyard, following along the path that led to the guesthouse that she had seen through the kitchen window and that was probably him. Young, okay maybe James Collins was a bit of a cougar, nothing wrong with that. The actor didn't even give the blonde guy more than a cursory glance when he walked in though, the newcomer mumbling a good morning and quirking a questioning eyebrow at Charlie that James just shrugged at before turning back to his phone, tapping away on the lit up keypad and huffing out an amused chuckle at something he saw there.

Oh, so that's how it was.

Well...maybe she would just see how all of this played out then, especially since she didn't miss how the blonde guy cleared his throat pointedly when Balthazar's latest conquest walked into the room, making a beeline for the actor who stashed away his phone like he was bored with it, but Charlie didn't miss how his hand shook either when he did that. It was like one of those Lifetime movies that her mom used to watch, secrets and intrigue and there wasn't any magic or Hobbits, but Charlie could get behind this, especially if she got to play the spunky, wise-beyond-her-years sidekick. Batgirl was just as awesome as Robin was after all. More so even because her costume was WAY better anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realize that most of this is unapologetic porn, but I tried to pepper in enough plot that we could move ahead now that I've gotten over the worst of my hot guys in panties phase. To all of you who stay with me now that you know exactly how weird I am I love you, to everyone who gives me up as hopeless I'm sorry! The panties (probably) won't appear in any of my other fics, I promise. Kisses and hugs to you all either way, you're kings and queens amongst men.


	9. Chapter 9

Naomi Tapping was not a pleasant woman. She was demanding and entitled and ungrateful of everything that her fame and family name had gotten for her. Being the only daughter in a famous filmmaking family had its perks though; she had been acting practically since birth, she could probably turn in the latest magazine that had a picture of her face on it as a headshot, and for some reason people still fell all over themselves to do things for her even when she treated them like dirt.

Castiel figured all of this out about the other woman during his first week of filming with her, when Crowley roused him out of bed and forced him to shave and put on his contacts and something that didn't make him look like a 'dirty rockstar', when really he had been moping around the house all weekend in Dean's clothes. Of course, he had figured all of this out back when they had been doing round table read throughs of the script back in Los Angeles and the actress had just shown up whenever was convenient for her; swanning into the room with her oversized sunglasses and her entourage and an air of disinterest that was suffocating.

Compared to her, the actress who was playing his two-timing wife, Nora Zehetner, was a complete and utter angel, not that she wasn't in her own right, but Christ it made the thought of her getting murdered seem like sacrilege. He hated that she had always been type-cast as overtly sexual worldly characters with unsavory or ulterior motives, but she seemed fine with it. Downright ecstatic even to be doing a film with him and Balthazar Roche and Emily Mortimer who was playing Anne Morton and Castiel was just thankful that the script had been written so that he wound up with anyone besides Naomi in the end.

They had kept Guy a tennis player though, which was just another thing he was going to have to learn how to do since there was a whole scene near the end of the movie where Guy meets Anne at a tennis match and he realizes that Bridgett, the feminization of Bruno's character that Naomi was playing, has been manipulating him for her own gain just like his wife who she murdered without his knowledge. But it was just another thing that was taking up his evenings, keeping him from sneaking out and going to see Dean who he couldn't stop thinking about and missing anytime that Guy Haines was locked away safe and sound and he could have his thoughts back to himself.

Come Friday and his last scene set on the BART where they had been filming all week, commandeering one of the train cars for his and Naomi's scenes that took place throughout the movie as they commuted on the same train together; initially unaware of each other expect for passing, lingering glances and shy smiles that finally made Bridgette walk over and strike up a conversation with Guy because of course she knew he was, everyone knew who he was, Castiel was so tired of being anyone but himself that he wanted to rip his eyes out because they were so itchy from wearing nothing but contacts anytime he wasn't at home.

"No, Bridgette." Guy responded softly, pulling his hand out of her clutching grasp and the red painted nails that had once seemed so alluring now looked like blood stained talons. "I'm not going to do that. I don't love you, you used me and lied to me and you're no better than Miriam. She's dead and you're dead to me too."

He stood up and buttoned up his jacket, straightening the cuffs and smoothing down his hair in case any reporters were waiting for him to catch a glimpse of the bereaved widower that he was having a hard time pretending to be. It shouldn't be so hard to feel guilty for Miriam's death, he was mostly to blame for it, but Bridgette had crushed the life out of the slender neck of his wife not him. Guy needed to move on to something healthier, take his second chance at happiness with Anne and run with it; run as fast and as far away from Bridgette Antony and the murderous favor she was asking from him.

"You're going to regret this," Bridgette intoned ominously behind him, clutching her handbag and looking flawless and perfect in the way that had caught his eye to begin with; the same way it had with Miriam and he really should have known not to expect perfection out of other people anymore. "You owe me."

Especially not strangers that he met on trains.

"Leave me alone, Bridgette." Guy said, moving towards the door as the train slowed and stopped, metal doors sliding open with a soft hiss of air being released along with the occupants returning home from work. "Contact me again and I'm going to the police."

He stepped out of the train, ignoring the crowd of people held back behind the barricades that had been set up at the station earlier in the day to keep back people that weren't cast or crew or extras needed to make the scene look believable. Castiel ignored the camera too that was moving fluidly and silently on the track beside him as he walked briskly towards the fading evening sunlight streaming in through the entrance.

Guy Haines wouldn't look back at the psychotic woman who had stalked him and found his one weakness and exploited it to try to get rid of her oppressive father that she worked for who wouldn't take her seriously because she was a woman. Haines would be thinking of the person he had met that had helped him realized that love didn't come with conditions and addendums and how now that he had delivered his ultimatum they could be together for real. Castiel thought of Dean and let it reflect in his walk, corners of his mouth quirking as he politely excused his way out of the station and towards his future.

"CUT!" Roche yelled from his corner of the platform where he was sitting in a director's chair in front of a monitor with massive headphones on and Crowley hovering behind him tapping away on his phone. "Fantastic, everyone just marvelous."

The crowd of spectators started clapping and Castiel moved over to say hello and give autographs before Crowley barked at him to do it and made the gesture seem less genuine. He had been overwhelmed by the positive feedback he had gotten for the article that had been in _People_ about the movie; Becky Rosen had made him seem charming and self deprecating and Dean had sent him a picture of him, Meg, and Jess sitting at the bar all reading a copy of it together. That's all he had had all week, text messages and hurriedly whispered conversations with the other man and it wasn't enough.

So he was filling the void by interacting with his fans and hanging out with the other actors and crew members and putting all of his focus into learning how to play tennis as quickly as possible so that when he finally got the opportunity he could sneak out and see Dean. Alfie and Charlie had been helpful in distracting Crowley so he could have quick conversations with Dean, almost as effective as Balthazar who was much less subtle about drawing his agent's attention off of his client with kisses and murmured propositions that Charlie would gag and roll her eyes at.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Naomi get out of the train car and stride over to where her assistant was waiting timidly with a bottle of water and her cell phone, offering it to the striking redheaded woman with a frightened smile and shying away from the biting comment he couldn't hear, but saw her mouth in the direction of the younger man who immediately scampered off to do whatever it was that she wanted him to do. He turned back to the girl who was asking for his autograph, smiling and brushing off her compliments about how much she loved him; expertly tuning out the paparazzi that were shouting questions at him about Roche's love life and whether or not he and Naomi Tapping were having any off-screen chemistry.

He choked back a laugh at that one, thinking of how she had done nothing but look down her nose at his resume that was much less impressive than her own and ignore him when he tried to strike up friendly between takes conversations while they were waiting for Balthazar to change blocking around or cameras to reset. No wonder Gabriel Novak had abandoned that frigid ship as quickly as humanly possible, but he kept those comments to himself because James Collins was known for being a nice guy.

"James!" Balthazar called, waving him over to where he was talking to Charlie; Crowley having wandered off somewhere with his phone pressed to his ear.

Castiel nodded and waved goodbye to the spectators before walking over to where the pair were looking at something that Charlie had pulled up on her phone and smiling at him like he was the most adorable thing in the world. He shrugged out of his suit jacket as he reached the pair, draping it over the back of Balthazar's chair and leaning over with his chin on the director's shoulder with a tired sigh.

"See," the Brit said, patting him on the head with a pointed look towards his assistant who was shifting back and forth on her feet. "The poor dear is exhausted, he needs a night off and you need to help me make it happen."

"I hate you both," Castiel stated blandly, shutting his eyes against the buzzing rush of foot traffic that was milling around them past the barricades. He _was_ exhausted and all he really wanted was to curl up on a couch somewhere with Dean and watch a bad eighties movie with the other man and eat food that Crowley wouldn't approve of.

"Well we love you," Charlie said firmly, tapping around on her phone before holding the screen out towards him. "And someone else loves you too."

He reached out for the phone, cradling it carefully in the palm of his hand and melting a bit into his friend's shoulder when he saw that it was a picture of a bouquet of roses sitting on the marbled kitchen counter in the house. Charlie reached out and swiped a finger across her screen to pull up another picture of the card that had come with it: _Miss you, xoxo –D_

"Awww," Charlie cooed, hopping up and down beside him and slapping at Balthazar's knee excitedly. "You should see your face! Don't worry I already moved them to your bedroom so Fergie won't see them and Alfie has the card for you in the car so you can rub it all over your face or whatever it is people do with love notes."

"Most people scrapbook," Castiel sighed, straightening up and offering his jacket to the wardrobe girl who was hovering nearby.

He started following her across the station and towards the wardrobe trailer that was outside in the parking lot, Charlie skipped after him humming to herself and chattering about how great it must be to be in love. Castiel gave her a stern look because there were still paparazzi milling around, hoping to get a picture of Naomi who had already been engulfed by her entourage fawning over her. They weren't really paying attention to him anymore, but he still couldn't chance one of them overhearing her and making assumptions about his non-existent as far as the press knew love life.

Castiel had bonded with Balthazar's assistant after that first day he met her, when she rescued him from Crowley shoving itineraries and schedules at him for things that he really didn't want to do, like brunch with Naomi. NO. Charlie had swooped in talking about some spa that he had never heard of and how Balthazar had told her to make him an appointment to spruce him up before filming started.

He had been worried for about half an hour as she drove him around in her bright yellow Beetle, blaring all-girl post punk new wave music and going on and on about how unfair it was that he had to hide the fact that he was gay, but then she had pulled up in front of an arcade and they had spent the rest of the day playing skeeball and eating pizza. They stopped long enough on the way back for him to get a haircut, just enough that Crowley believed that they had spent the day being pampered and not gossiping about Dean like a couple of giggly eighth grade girls.

Charlie was like the little sister he had begged his parents for when he was a kid, but she could get a bit overexcited when it came to 'helping' him with the whole Dean thing. Hiding those flowers was the first thing she had actually been able to help him keep from Crowley and her enthusiasm about the whole thing was just so tiring after the week he had had. He stepped behind the screen in the trailer, passing out the suit that he had been wearing to the wardrobe assistant and pulling his own clothing back on with limbs that were stiff and achy from sitting still so that his makeup could be touched up or the scene could be reset.

The light blue Henley that he was wearing didn't smell like Dean anymore, but it wasn't covered in oil and it didn't have a band logo on it so Crowley had said it was passable enough to be seen in public in. His agent didn't even seem to realize that it didn't belong to the actor, probably because Balthazar had pulled the other foreigner into a kiss that almost made him lose the eggs Benedict that Dean had emailed him the recipe for so Charlie could try her hand at something besides French toast, but it had made getting through the day a little easier knowing that he could put back on this part of Dean like his lover was hugging him while he worked.

"I'm putting on my glasses and Crow can suck it," Castiel muttered, earning a chuckle from Charlie as she rummaged out a case for his contacts from her messenger bag before going back to flicking through her phone.

He planted himself in the mirror, taking care of the chore of removing his contacts and slipping back on his glasses with a thankful sigh as he rubbed at his eyes and pulled his phone out of his pocket to see a handful of missed texts from Dean and one from Meg asking when he was going to come and see her because Dean was driving her nuts and she needed a break.

"So we're going out tonight," Charlie said beside him, side-eyeing him with a sly smirk on her face. "Alfie said he knows this great bar, bartenders are supposed to be super foxy."

"Yea, right." Castiel said, trying to not get his hopes up because he had tennis lessons and there was no way that Crowley was going to let him out of that because it was turning out that he was really, really awful at tennis.

"Well we've got to ditch mom and dad, but dad is on our side. Always has been, always will be; Balthy is a sucker for star crossed lovers. I mean, you saw that movie he did a couple of years ago, right? That was about him and his number one ex."

" _Weekend_ was about Balthazar?" Castiel asked, feeling like this explained so much about why the director had been so hesitant to settle down up until this point; he wondered if Crowley knew that about the other man.

"Yea, well. His Russell didn't wait on him to come back and I don't think he wants to see someone else go through the same thing. Balthy is still trying to set me up with every lesbian actress he knows and as soon as he figures out exactly where Alfie falls on the spectrum that boy won't be safe from his matchmaking either."

"How do you plan on shaking Crowley?"

"Balthazar told me to let him worry about that, but I do know that it involves "location scouting" which is the boss's code word for having sex outside somewhere." Charlie held up a hand at him and shook her head quickly. "Can we not talk about how I know that? Please?"

"I won't ask," Castiel said, trying not to laugh as the redhead shuddered and gagged beside him for a moment before her phone chimed in hand.

"The momma bird has flown the coop," Charlie said hopping up and grabbing his arm, dragging the weakly protesting actor towards the door of the trailer with an excited smile on her face. "C'mon Cas, I want to meet your Prince Charming already."

* * *

Dean had notoriously bad luck with relationships. His last serious one had been in Kansas and it had lasted for six months right after high school. He had been ready to turn it into forever with the other man before he walked in on Victor with someone else and gave up on relationships for the next ten years or so until Cas came into his life. It was part of why falling so hard and fast for the actor scared the shit out of him and why he was so terrified of losing him now that they were together to someone who was more charming and more handsome and more British than he was.

Those fucking gossip websites were ruining his life and Meg had effectively forbidden him from touching any electronic devices that could access the internet as long as he was around her because all of them had pictures of Balthazar Roche standing too close to his boyfriend or touching his boyfriend like they had known each other for years. And now this one, fucking really?

He had to be at work soon and all he wanted to do was punch the nearest man wearing a V-neck shirt in the throat because TMZ had just posted the latest round of behind the scenes photos from the _Strangers on a Train_ set. And there was Cas leaning on Roche's shoulder, smiling at the other man's phone and fucking letting the director run his fingers through his hair. It wasn't possible, this couldn't be happening to him, _again._

Dean texted Castiel asking if he had gotten his flowers and got a little smiley emoticon in return, what the hell was that supposed to mean? He couldn't even find it in himself to be mad at Cas, because Cas was perfect and honest and innocent and this was all fucking Roche's fault because he was the same as Dean, loving and leaving and breaking hearts because something had happened to make him that way. And if Cas liked Dean then Cas might like Roche too and what if Cas left him for Roche and skipped off into the sunset of the olde country with the director and what if he died of a broken heart because of it.

The entire drive to work was horrible with traffic and assholes who cut him off and the what ifs circling around and around in his head threatening to overwhelm him with anger and sadness and desperation that he needed to do something drastic and romantic to make sure that Cas knew he loved him even though Dean didn't let a day pass without him telling the other man. Sometimes that was the extent of their whispered conversations, mumbled late at night after he got off work and Meg gave him his phone back and he had crawled into his bed with nothing but pillows to hold on to as he slept.

But he still told him every fucking day and goddamnit that should fucking count for something. Just because he wasn't there, because he couldn't be around Cas as much as he wanted to be so that Crowley didn't have a conniption fit didn't mean that he wanted to see another guy getting handsy with what was his.

He wasn't normally an aggressive driver because Baby was big enough that she commanded a fair amount of space on the road, but the whole Cas thing was freaking him out and he may have honked just a little bit more than was strictly necessary at the commuters heading home from their workdays and the night-lifers heading out early for their Friday barhopping. Dean was really not in the mood for this tonight.

The parking lot was already halfway full and he was late because of the traffic and could this night get any fucking worse than it already was? His phone buzzed in his pocket as he maneuvered around to the back of the building, sighing when he saw that his favorite spot had been taken by some yellow Volkswagen Beetle that was plastered in Star Wars and gay pride stickers. Dean was proud of the fact that he resisted the urge to mow down the plastic toy car and texted Meg back to tell her to shut up he was in the parking lot.

He nodded his way past Gordon and into the bar, stopping at the main bar long enough snag a tumbler and two fingers of whiskey out from under Anna's nose before tossing it back and meandering towards the break room. He needed to get his mind off of Cas or off of the possibility of the other man cheating on him with someone else because of course there was no way that could happen. Dean knew that he was being silly, but it still didn't keep his heart from twisting when he pictured his actor kissing the director like Cas kissed him, like all of the stars were falling around them and planets were colliding above their heads.

Dean was putting away his jacket in his locker when the door to the break room opened and shut off to his side that was blocked by the locker door. It was probably Meg, coming to yell at him for being late and to steal his phone from him for the night so that he couldn't surreptitiously look at pictures of Cas on the set for the movie and mope like he had been doing all week since all he wanted to do was see his partner and kiss him and wrap himself up in the other man so they didn't have to be apart anymore. But he wasn't ready to give it up yet so he shot off a quick text to the other man saying that he loved him and missed him and made sure not to include any jealous asshole subtext because he didn't want to be that person with Cas.

He heard someone clear their throat behind him and knew that Meg wasn't going to let him wait on a reply from Cas before tackling him to the ground and stealing his phone from him. She had been threatening to do it all week and once she had hidden it from him completely when he had gone over to her apartment for dinner. It had turned out to be in her bra, pretty much the one place she knew he wouldn't look for it, but they made it all the way through _Some Kind of Wonderful_ before it chimed under her shirt and he figured out where she had stashed it.

"Dean, I'm enjoying the view, but I've missed your face more than your ass."

The bartender spun on his heel to see Castiel standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, tapping his foot impatiently with a satisfied smile tilting up the corners of his mouth. He was wearing Dean's clothes or at least his shirt and the jealous part of his mind went into overdrive, fist pumping like a frat boy because Cas _wasn't_ wearing a stupid looking V-neck that would never in a million years belong to him. Cas was his and Balthazar fucking Roche could go take a flying fucking leap off of the closest cliff because Dean was not giving up on the actor like had on Victor without a fight.

"Hey, who does a guy have to kill to get a drink around here?" Cas remarked popping out his hip and biting his lip with his eyebrows wagging suggestively.

"Oh god, I missed you so much." Dean breathed crossing over to the other man and gathering him into his arms for a rib crushing hug that the other man returned with a deep chuckle that reverberated in Dean's ribs from where their chests were pressed together. "A week is too long."

"I know," Castiel muttered into his hair, breathing deeply and sighing on the exhale in a way that made all of the tension that Dean hadn't realized he was carrying ease out of his shoulders as he relaxed into the other man's arms around his neck. "A day is too long."

"A hour," Dean countered, kissing the other man's neck after he said it because the taste of summer rain had faded off of his mouth far too quickly since he had last seen Cas.

"A minute."

"If I say a second, I'll sound like a girl." Dean murmured, hearing the other man's breathing hitch as he grazed his teeth against Cas's throat.

"Mmmm, can't have that can we?" Castiel teased, walking him backwards until he was pressed against the lockers, feeling his actor flush against him and realizing that it had been approximately a million years since he had felt the perfect way the other man fit in his arms.

"Guess you'll just have to come around more often," Dean said seriously, pulling back so he could look into Cas's blue eyes and get lost in them. "Keep me on the straight and narrow."

"That is the exact opposite of how I want to keep you," Cas replied, closing the space between them and capturing Dean's mouth with a soft groan that Dean felt all the way down to his toes.

It was like flames licking his skin, melting him and reshaping him so that he could fit into Castiel's life in whatever way he could because so far the hiding and the desire to have the other man with him had been nagging at him like sharp corners jutting into his skin. Dean just knew that he couldn't lose Cas, even if he only saw him once a week, hell once a month it would just have to be enough if they could kiss like this whenever they saw each other.

He ran his tongue over the roof other man's mouth before twining it sinuously around Cas's, clutching onto the material of his shirt that the other man had borrowed as he felt long fingers sift through his hair and smooth over his shoulders, pulling him closer until Cas could slip one of his denim clad thighs between his legs and press his arousal against Dean's hip. Dean groaned unashamedly into the other man's mouth, pushing up the material of his shirt so that he could feel the other man's skin against his as much as possible before something else came to pull Cas away from him.

Dean didn't even care that he was making the most disgustingly needy sounds that had probably ever existed as Castiel started kissing his neck, trailing down his throat with stinging bites that would leave the kind of marks that customers stared at when they were drunk and had lost all sense of etiquette. He didn't care, not even when he felt the other man move one of his arms under his thigh and heft it up to wrap around his hip so that Castiel could pin him against the lockers and groan hotly into his neck.

"Missed you so fucking much, Dean." Castiel panted into his skin, grinding his erection hard into Dean's until they were both whimpering from the friction. "Shit, I love you. You have no idea how much I love you."

"Christ, sweetheart." Dean murmured, willing his hazy mind to clear because he understood exactly what the actor was trying to say. But he was so fucking hard and so turned on and he was about a minute away from coming in his pants like a teenager and why did Cas have this effect on him?

"Whoa! Holy Mother of God, Dean!" Meg's voice yelled, causing the bartender's eyes to fly open in surprise from where he had shut them when he had thrown his head back to offer more of his neck to Castiel for him to bite and suck and mark. "This is a public space, dude! Not your fucking living room."

Meg was standing in the doorway of the break room, frantically flapping her hands around before she settled on covering up the eyes of the red headed girl standing at her side. His friend tried to look anywhere else but at him and Cas who had sighed despondently into his neck and slowly dropped Dean's leg, running his hand up his body and to his shoulder in order to keep him close as they both tried to make themselves look like they hadn't just been caught dry humping against a set of lockers like a couple of lust frenzied high school students.

The red head pulled Meg's hand down with her green eyes wide and sparkling, hitting the other girl on the shoulder dumbly as she pointed at Dean and Castiel excitedly. "He does totally look like Rapunzel! You were right, Meg."

"Dean meet Charlie," Castiel said tightly, pulling back to lick his lips and run a hand though his hair which Dean also did right after, smoothing through the dark locks with his own fingers and smiling at the way the actor leaned into his touch; thinking to himself that Cas hadn't looked that content when Roche was fucking touching him. "Charlie this is Dean Winchester, my Prince Charming."

"Aww shucks, sweetheart." Dean muttered, feeling the blush that had already started at Meg's comments creep even farther up his neck toward his ears that always tinted pink when he was embarrassed. "You're not so bad yourself, Krushnic."

"Stop you're going to give me a complex," Cas murmured leaning into give him a kiss that was much more tame now that they had an audience.

"Yea," Charlie piped in, pulling out her phone and fiddling with it a bit before tilting it in Meg's direction. "He doesn't need a bigger head with all of his adoring fans sending him flowers and Balthy going on and on about how great he is. So sweet I want to vomit."

"Seriously," Meg agreed, glancing at Dean with a knowing smile on her face even though the bottom had started to drop out of his heart again.

"Did he get you flowers?" Dean asked lowly. If Roche had gotten Cas flowers he didn't know what he was going to do, freak out probably. Cry? Highly unlikely, but kick some English ass most definitely yes.

"No," the other man replied, tilting his head confusedly and shaking it slightly with a fond smile on his lips. "You got me flowers, Dean. Or did you already forget that you are the sweetest boyfriend in the world?"

"Yea, of course. Don't know what I was thinking." He muttered, kissing the other man and dragging his feet all the way towards the door of the break room when the actor dragged him in that direction because it meant that he would have to let go of Cas and every time he saw him it was getting harder and harder to do just that.

* * *

Samandriel Pike, Aflie to his friends, had a lot of reasons for not talking to his dad anymore. Even though he missed him like crazy and asked his mom how the older man was doing every time he called her, his father's reaction to his parting admission had stuck with him.

It had a lot more to do with Jacob White Tree and a lot less to do with his dad thinking that wanting to be a screenwriter was a dumb career choice than he thought his mom knew about, otherwise she probably wouldn't want to talk to him either. But she knew enough because every time he called she would go off on some tangent about how she still loved him and no matter what he would always be her son and blah blah blah. It was nice and all to hear that kind of stuff from her, but to hear the same thing just once from his dad, well Alfie would give anything to have a phone call not end with his mom saying that his dad was busy and couldn't come to the phone.

But having friends was helping with the loneliness and seeing how happy Dean and Castiel were together gave him hope that he could find someone too. Even Crowley and Balthazar were kind of a perverse set of role models for him even though he had learned over the course of one short week not to go into the main house for anything between the hours of seven and ten in the evening unless he had headphones on. They were worse than Dean and Cas had been and that was saying something because those two couldn't keep their hands off of each other, but at least they tried to be quiet if they knew he was in the house.

Crowley and Balthazar just didn't seem to care who heard them and he and Cas and Charlie had spent more time in the guest house eating take out than using the massive kitchen in the main house and trying out Dean's recipes. He really missed the bartender's cooking and advice about surfing and Dean was a bit like the older brother he had never had growing up, someone who had his back and didn't let douche bags like Jacob White Tree string him along and break his heart. Dean so would've beat that asshole up for him or better still, taught Alfie how to do it himself.

He wandered out to the main bar when Charlie and Dean's scary friend, Meg, disappeared to find the other two men mostly because he felt really weird sitting in the VIP section by himself, but also because there were a couple of super pushy movie execs side-eyeing him like he was a piece of meat. Normally the attention was welcome because no one ever looked at him like that, but he was more than a little tired of being hit on by guy's who were old enough to be his grandfather and women who he couldn't even begin to feign an interest in just to be polite.

Alfie took at seat at the bar, asking the wispy redheaded bartender for a jack and coke and hoping that she didn't look too closely at his fake ID that he only needed for a couple more months until he could drink without it. He didn't think that he had fooled her very much since when he got his drink it tasted way more like soda than alcohol and he figured that once he had finished this one he could go back to the VIP bar with Cas and Dean would serve him whatever he wanted anyway. He pulled out his phone so that he didn't have to make eye contact with anyone and focused on his drink and the level of Angry Birds that he was intent on getting three stars on if it killed him.

He was just a little startled when the bartender set down another drink in front of him when he started to get to the bottom of the first glass. "I um... I'm sorry. I didn't order another, I'm about to take off actually."

"Well, you're admirer at the end of the bar is gonna be disappointed to see you leave." The redhead remarked, gesturing across the empty space behind the bar to a sultry looking brunette woman who had a pair of sunglasses pushed up into her dark hair.

"Tell her she's really sweet," Alfie said blushing slightly when she smirked at him. If only he were interested in girls maybe his dad would still be speaking to him. "But um...she's not really my type. So I'm just gonna..."

"Not her, sport." The bartender replied wryly, pointing at the man who was sitting a couple of stools away from the brunette woman and looking at him with a small, shy smile quirking his lips. "Him."

"Oh, uh...well...in that case..." Alfie cleared his throat and slid the new drink a little closer, stirring it warily with the clear plastic drinking straw that was sticking out of it. "What is it?"

"Just another jack and coke," the woman said with a shrug, moving away from him towards where someone was flagging her down for a drink. "But I actually put alcohol in it this time, junior. It's not roofied, I promise."

"Gee thanks," he muttered, picking up the glass and nodding at the other man before taking a sip of it and trying very hard to look cool; like guys buying him drinks was the most normal thing in the world.

The other man was older, probably old enough that he shouldn't be encouraging him, but Alfie was just content to have someone moderately good looking paying attention to him for once. Someone who wasn't obviously interested in the doe-eyed virgin vibe he unknowingly gave off sometimes and he had always liked George Clooney and the salt and pepper look that guys who aged really well had. Plus it was just a little flirting and it was just one drink and it's not like he couldn't escape back to the VIP bar if things got creepy weird.

So he tried to channel James Collins's charm mixed with Balthazar's sass and a little of Dean's easy confidence when he smirked back at the other man. And he tried very hard not to swoon when the other guy smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone who is bookmarking and subscribing and commenting, you're the best. Those of you just reading, you're pretty dang fantastic too, but just give in and make an account already so I can talk to you! No one is going to judge you for liking fanfiction, shush pretty baby its okay. We're all mad here. I may be losing my mind just a little bit *shrug*
> 
> Weekend is a real movie and its on Netflix and its super awesome so watch it and have all of the feels.


	10. Chapter 10

"What is this?" Crowley barked, storming into the kitchen in one of Balthazar's v-neck shirts, which was alarming enough by itself for Castiel who had only managed to make it home long enough to change into pajama pants so that it would look like he had slept at the house instead of in Meg's guest bedroom with Dean, but it was made even more terrifying because his agent had just slid his iPad towards him across the top of the breakfast nook with _US Weekly's_ website pulled up in glorious, soul-crushing high definition.

"I know this one!" Charlie piped, settling down next to him with a bowl of Lucky Charms and an innocent smile on her face. "That is Balthazar's iPad, I can tell because you can see right there on the corner where I dropped it when he introduced me to Posh Spice."

"Did you meet David Beckham!?" Alfie asked excitedly, shutting the refrigerator door quickly so he could rush over to Charlie and gossip about British soccer stars.

"Would you two shut up?" Crowley asked, pointing a stern finger at the iPad and looking pointedly at the picture that was displayed across the small screen. "Who is that, James?"

The actor actually looked down at the picture, because so far all that had registered for him was the familiar logo of the gossip magazine before Castiel's heart had kicked into over drive and he had turned his attention towards Charlie's weak attempt at a distraction so that he wouldn't throw up all over the device. It had been too much to hope that he could sneak out to see Dean, especially now that filming had started and paparazzi were being more insistent than ever, angling to get pictures of him and the other stars that no one else would have.

Castiel started trying to compose an excuse for why someone had probably gotten a grainy picture of him kissing Dean in the hallway outside of the employee break room at the bar or maybe saw him that one time when Jess had started serving him tequila at Dean's insistence instead of vodka and waters. Cas had taken a cue from Jo to lean over the booth that he and Charlie and Alfie had ended up in to slap his boyfriend on the butt. It had just been too tempting and Dean's jeans were tight in all of the right places and the other man was just so handsome without even trying and Cas still couldn't believe his luck that the bartender was all his.

But when he looked down at the screen the only thing he could do was thank Meg for being so full of wisdom instead of alcohol like he had been the night before and insisting that he ride with her over to her apartment instead of climbing into the Impala with Dean like had wanted to. Because it wasn't a picture of him and his bartender in a compromising oh-so-homosexual situation that he would never possibly be able to explain to Crowley in a million years, but instead it was a picture of him and Meg heading into her apartment with his arm slung companionably around her shoulders as he laughed at some joke she had made that involved eggplant.

They had only made it into the apartment about ten minutes ahead of Dean who Charlie had stopped to talk to when everyone had parted ways and started climbing into vehicles to leave the bar and head over to Meg's for waffles and a _Xena_ marathon that he remembered both of the girls being pretty excited about. Whatever photographer that had seen him and Meg together must have taken the picture and then gone off to stalk some other unsuspecting celebrity because if they had stuck around then they probably would've seen Dean launching himself at Castiel on the balcony of Meg's apartment They definitely would have gotten the paycheck of a lifetime from just the few seconds that the two men had spent embracing out in the open before heading back inside.

The blazing headline underneath the picture read "James Collins Mystery Woman: _Strangers_ bachelor seen out on the town with unknown love interest". Castiel still had to come up with a lie for what was going on and it's not like he could say that Meg was his girlfriend because fucking everyone in the house knew that he was gay, not that Crowley knew that. But this was better than if someone had gotten a picture of him with Dean, right?

"That is..." He began, clearing his throat and trying to think of the best way to describe Meg to someone who had never met her.

That is my secret boyfriend's best friend? Who her? Meg's just this girl who drinks a lot and watches nothing but 80s movies that feature strong-willed women. That is the manager of the bar that I met the love of my life in? That is my friend Meg who calls me Clarence and doesn't know that two grown men were making out on her couch while your boyfriend's assistant and her were out getting ingredients for waffles at the closest all-night minimart? Oh, by the way I was one of those men and we had sex in her guest bedroom too.

"Meg." Castiel finished lamely, looking over at Charlie who had forced a grin on her face and was nodding beside him.

Crowley nodded and widened his eyes, waving his hand in a gesture that meant he expected the other man to elaborate and expand on that answer before the agent lost his patience. "James, I am not a complete moron. I assumed that she had a name, what I meant is who is this woman to you?"

"She's my friend." He offered softly, hoping that would be the end of it.

"Since when do you have friends that I don't know about?" Crowley asked, channeling the bad cop from every procedural cop drama that Dean bitched about his uncle loving the hell out of when he was a teenager.

"She's his beard," Charlie spat out suddenly, along with about half a mouthful of cereal and earning a disgusted look from Crowley before his face lit up brighter than Cas had ever seen it.

"That's bloody brilliant," the other man stated plainly, reaching across and ruffling Charlie's hair playfully. It was the playful part that was scaring Castiel just a little bit.

"You aren't mad that she knows?" the actor asked, tensing himself up to push Charlie or Alfie out of harm's way if it looked like his agent was about to snap and go postal on all of them.

"How could I be mad at her when she's doing such a good job taking care of you?" Crowley replied, moving to pinch Charlie's cheeks too, but she ducked back out of his reach with a strangled sounding laugh looking at Castiel with an anxious expression on her face. "I should have thought of it years ago. Do you know how many problems this would have solved if I had just hired someone to pose as your girlfriend all this time?"

"I didn't hire her, Crow." Castiel said quickly before his agent got ahead of himself and started planning a big elaborate fake wedding for him and Meg because he needed more exposure or something else that would further his career. "Meg is actually my friend."

"No one does something for nothing, James." Crowley said seriously, frowning at his client. "What does she want from you for doing this? I mean, she must know that it's not real? Surely, you wouldn't be heartless enough to lead some poor girl on, I'm not even sure I could do that and I would sell my own mother if I needed a part for the Aston."

"Jesus," Alfie muttered, looking meaningfully at Charlie before heading for the living room.

"So is your relationship with Balthazar based on getting something from him?" Charlie asked, always protective of her boss even though he was years older than her and a million times more worldly.

"Of course it is," Crowley said with a shrug, sliding the iPad back over to himself and clicking on the link to the presumably speculative article that had been written about Castiel's picture with Meg. "He is with me because it's the most convenient thing for him right now and I am with him because well, like I said, I'm not heartless."

"You don't think it could be more than that?" Castiel asked, feeling just a little bit sorry for the other man if he couldn't see that Balthazar was more invested in whatever it was they had going on besides it just being easier to spend time with Crowley rather than putting in the effort to find someone else.

"I try to be realistic, my boy." Crowley said with a sad smirk quirking the corners of his mouth. "If you trust that everyone had good intentions then you put yourself out there to be hurt, so you get hurt. It's as simple as that."

"Your mother didn't hug you enough," Charlie said decisively, letting her spoon clatter down into her bowl and twirling out of the room to go plop down next to Alfie on the couch, picking up the video game controller the younger man offered her.

"If she wasn't a genius, I would swear that Balthazar was fond of her," Crowley grumbled, letting his eyes rove over the article and scoffing just a bit at whatever he was reading. "You didn't answer my question."

"I'm sorry," Cas deadpanned, poking at his own soggy bowl of Cheerios and deciding that the vodka and tequila were conspiring against him to starve him out. "I was a little distracted by finding out that you didn't have a soul. Of course, she doesn't think it's real, Crow. Meg's not an idiot, she's doing me a favor because she is a good friend of mine and she wants to see me happy."

"Well it's nice to know that you're taking your career as seriously as I do," Crowley replied, straightening up and heading back out of the room, presumably to go back upstairs to Balthazar who had a habit of sleeping in whenever he possibly could. They had all agreed that jetlag had stopped being an excuse that the other man could use a while ago. "Invite her to dinner or something, I wouldn't mind meeting another friend of yours and chances are I'll like her at least as much as I like Patrick."

"I'll see what I can do."

As soon as his agent had disappeared, Castiel was up and out the back door of the house; fleeing across the wide back yard and towards the gate that lead to the private stretch of beach that ran behind the guesthouse. He pulled out his phone, debating about who he should call first. Cas had left Dean asleep in Meg's guest bedroom before the sun even came up, accidentally rousing the other man when he crawled out of bed after getting a text from Charlie saying that Alfie had finally shown up to get them; the younger man had disappeared with her car after two episodes of _Xena_ and a mysterious text that made his driver blush beet red.

Dean had clung to him and begged him not to go, burying his face in his neck and wrapping a leg around him in an effort to keep the actor in the bed with him. Every time that Cas had to leave Dean he felt like he was leaving a piece of his heart behind with the other man and he knew eventually it would either make him bitter and jaded or desperate enough to do something stupid. Something stupid like volunteering his boyfriend's lesbian best friend who had done nothing but cover for Castiel and Dean so far to be his beard in the very harsh media spotlight that followed him everywhere. Maybe he should call Meg first.

He bit his lip and pressed the call button, glancing back at the house to make sure that Crowley wasn't watching him from the balcony and wondering what he was doing outside when his agent knew that Cas hated sand and the beach and only liked the ocean in theory because it smelled the same no matter what coast you were on.

* * *

"Dean, wake up." Meg said jumping onto the bed next him and hitting him in the head repeatedly with a pillow until he moved to weakly bat her away. "Goddamnit, Dean. I'm not fucking around wake up, I have news! News that you will love me forever for!"

"You made me a huge plate of bacon?" Dean grumbled, pushing the smaller woman off of him so that he could grab the pillow that she was hitting him with and clutch it to his chest.

It was Cas's pillow and he didn't want it smelling like fucking girly ass gardenias or something from Meg touching it. Yes, it was technically her pillow and she could have it back eventually, but for now he wanted to pretend like his boyfriend hadn't left at the asscrack of dawn with whispered promises that he would see him as soon as he could. Dean was getting really tired of not having definitive times that he could see Castiel, if he was a movie star or famous or something then this wouldn't be a problem anymore. Then they could just be together and no one would care because it wouldn't seem like his actor was dating down with some out of work mechanic turned bartender.

"No bacon," Meg said cheerily; too cheerily for someone who didn't have bacon happening in their life right now in Dean's opinion, but then again he always got a little grumpy in the morning when people woke him up before he was ready to function. "But it's as good as bacon, it can mean that you're going to get to see your lurver as much as you freaking want because I'm amazing and awesome and you should worship the fucking ground I walk on."

"Unless you've turned into a cup of coffee in the last five milliseconds or so I highly doubt I will be worshipping anything about you, Meg." Dean groused, making sure that the sheets were wrapped firmly around his waist before he sat up and scooted back to prop himself up against the headboard. "What did you do that was so freaking fantastic and what does it have to do with Cas?"

Meg squeaked and pulled her phone out, waving it merrily in his direction before settling into his side and putting her head on his shoulder with a satisfied sigh. Dean looked at the headline that was plastered across the small screen of her Android, frowning down at the picture of Cas and Meg that had the world's most inaccurate article attached to it. Least of which was them thinking that the pair was a couple because they said that Meg was sweet and mild-mannered and a struggling actress instead of a sassy, foul mouthed bar manger.

"The fact checker at this magazine is so going to be fired," Dean said with a laugh, handing the other girl her phone back once he had finished the article. "You're not a struggling actress, that's totally ridiculous."

"I moved here to be an actress," Meg said simply, shrugging just a bit and clicking around on her phone to a _Xena_ fan website. "I'm kinda surprised that you're not freaking out about it, maybe this is you maturing Dean."

"You never told me that," Dean said with a little frown, looking down at the smaller woman who just shrugged again and enlarged a picture of Xena's breastplate, making a little hum of confusion over the image. "And why would I be freaking out? Some photographer got a lucky shot and can pay his rent this month off of that picture. It's just going to suck for him when Cas finally comes out."

Meg moved away from him with a stricken expression on her face, biting her lip and grabbing a hold of his hand that was propped up on Cas's pillow that he had put in his lap. "Dean, I don't think that's going to be happening anytime soon."

"Why not?" Dean asked, narrowing his eyes shrewdly as he searched her face for whatever it was that was making her look at him like she had just ran over his puppy. "It's not like we can hide forever, Meg. I mean, I love him that kind of leads to other things farther down the road. I would eventually like to take him out on a real date, do the whole dinner and a movie schtick even though it's super lame. I want all of that with Cas and he wants all of that with me."

"Of course he does, sweetie." Meg said soothingly, glancing at Dean's phone when it started vibrating on the nightstand that was on his other side. "You just need to be supportive of whatever hare brained schemes he comes up with until he's ready to come out of the Hollywood closet."

"What did you two do?" Dean choked out at Meg who just shook her head and mouthed wordlessly besides him as he scrambled for his phone and pressed it to his ear as soon as he saw that it was his actor calling him.

" _I'm guessing you saw it?"_ Castiel's voice came through the phone's earpiece, managing to calm Dean just with the sound of his gruff baritone even though his mind was racing with all of the different things that Meg and his boyfriend could have done in the name of helping their relationship stay a secret.

"Yea, Meg just showed me." Dean said, tightening his grip on his friend's hand when she started to get off the bed. "And she saying some pretty vaguely scary stuff that is making me think that you did something dumb."

" _Well, it was Charlie actually,"_ Castiel replied, Dean could hear the shushing sound of ocean waves breaking on the beach behind the actor's temporary home and he knew that the other man hadn't corrected his agent's misguided assumptions about the picture of James Collins's mystery girlfriend. _"But it's still a good idea as long as we're careful and Meg has agreed to help me for as long as I need her to so that you and I can spend more time together."_

"What am I supposed to do, Cas?" Dean asked agitatedly. "Just fucking live in her guest bedroom and keep hoping that no one sees you and me leaving at the same? What did your agent think of your little plan?"

" _His words were, and I'm quoting, 'bloody brilliant',"_ Castiel said sounding absolutely delighted that his agent was on board with yet another lie about his client, how much was going to be too much before it all came crashing down on them? _"Don't you see this is a good thing, Dean?"_

"How could this possibly be good?" Dean barked, letting Meg escape out of the room with a mouthed 'Sorry' at him as he ran his hand through his bedraggled hair. "In case you haven't forgotten, Meg is just as gay as you are. How is it going to help your image at all to be seen out and about with a lesbian? And what if she wants to have her own relationship, Cas? What if she meets someone and you two have to do a big fake break up for the press?"

" _That's just it! She gets to spend time with the person that she likes and I get to spend time with you."_

"Charlie," Dean said drily, letting his head clunk back hard on the headboard so that maybe the pain would wake him up from how surreal his life had become. "So what is Charlie going to pretend to be my girlfriend and we'll just go on double dates with our fake girlfriends together so that we can see each other?"

" _I hadn't really brought it up to Charlie yet,"_ Castiel replied. _"But why not, Dean? At least this way I can walk down the street with you without all of America speculating about my sexuality."_

"I just don't see why you fucking care," Dean barked, punching the pillow in his lap in frustration. "Why does it matter if everyone knows that you're gay? Why is it anyone's business but yours who you sleep with?"

" _Because I haven't made it yet, Dean."_ The other man said desperately. _"I'm not to that point where I can make big revelations about myself to the public and expect them to still go see movies that I'm in. Half of my fans will boycott me and the other half won't be able to picture me playing a romantic heterosexual lead. I'll be forever type cast as the villain or the gay best friend or the sage, asexual sidekick. I will never get a lead role again."_

"Roche knows though, right?" Dean asked harshly, remembering all of the pictures that he had seen over the last week of the director running his hands through the other man's hair or leaning into his actor like they were old lovers. "He knows you're gay and you still got the lead in his movie."

" _Of course he knows, Dean."_ Castiel sighed through the phone. _"But he's not afraid of what people think, it's different in other countries. They aren't as hung up about this kind of thing like Americans are and he's being really understanding about Crowley."_

"Well, if he's so fucking understanding then maybe you wouldn't have to hide if you were with him." Dean spat, wondering when the jealously that he had pushed down the night before had come back out to play and wishing that he could hide how much it was caused by him being scared of losing Castiel just like he had lost Victor. "Maybe Crowley would fucking love Roche because they're both fucking British and can go fuck off and drink tea and talk about how wonderful it is that they get to be around you as much as they want when no one else does."

" _Why are we talking about Balthazar? What does any of this have to do with him?"_ Castiel asked confusedly, but all Dean could hear was his boyfriend trying to change the subject and it felt like just another thing that the actor was hiding just like he was hiding him and when was it going to end. _"I'm doing this for you, Dean. So that I can be with you more and Meg is trying to do us a favor and I'm just trying to enjoy having a win in this whole situation for once. It's hard enough without you acting childish about the whole thing."_

"I'm acting childish?" Dean scoffed, disbelievingly. "Cas, you are the one who is over thirty and still hiding in the closet from the whole world. I did the whole coming out thing a long time ago and I'm still standing, it didn't ruin my life and it's not going to ruin yours."

" _Can we just try it my way, Dean? Just for a little bit to see if it can work? If it doesn't we'll figure out something else; some other way to explain who you are to me so the press leaves us alone."_

"I know who I am, Cas." He replied softly, shoving back his possessiveness of the other man yet again because fuck everything Dean really did love him and would take whatever he could of Cas for as long as he could until something went wrong to screw it all up. "I don't want to be your dirty little secret forever. I just want you."

" _I know. I just want you too."_ His actor said tightly. _"And we'll get there, baby steps. And yes, by the way."_

"Yes, what?"

" _Yes, I would love to go on a double date with you, Dean Winchester."_

Dean laughed at that, it was slightly panicked and more than a little tearful because he knew that he couldn't keep going without Cas by his side forever before he snapped and did something that blew their cover in a big way. But it was also a little relieved because he hadn't seen any pictures of his actor out on innocent working lunch dates with Balthazar and that made him feel better as he said goodbye to the other man and told him he loved him and got up to start getting dressed. Meg barged in right when he pulled on his jeans from the night before, bearing a pile of sheets that she tossed at his chest with an appeasing smile.

"It's fine, Meg." Dean said, setting the linens down on the edge of the bed so that he could try to find his shirt from wherever Cas had pulled it off of him the night before. Apparently tequila plus vodka made for a very forward closeted actor, sporting a Russian accent and murmuring things into Dean's neck in a foreign language; it had been hot as hell. "Your dads aren't fighting anymore, you don' have to pick which one you want to spend summer vacation with."

"Good," She said smiling wider and toeing his boots towards him. "Because I would've picked the dad who had a beach in his backyard and a foxy redheaded assistant for me to gawk at."

"Ouch," he replied, clutching at his chest like he was wounded before pulling his shirt over his head and starting the task of changing the sheets that his friend at least had the grace not to mention were much less pristine after he and Cas had commandeered the bedroom. "Charlie seems real cool though, probably too nice for you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Meg asked defensively, twirling a lock of her dark wavy hair around her finger and gnawing on her lip.

"You usually go for edgier girls," Dean replied with a shrug, smiling at how distraught his friend looked at that comment. "Girls who ride motorcycles and wear a lot of leather and have a lot of kinky sex toys."

"Well maybe my tastes are changing," Meg said quickly, gesturing at Dean in disbelief. "I mean if playboy Dean Winchester can decide to settle down with someone then maybe I can decide that I'd rather have someone who likes to cosplay and read comic books more than they like to bungee jump off of the Golden Gate Bridge."

"Still kind of surprised that Bela talked you into doing that." Dean pointed out, bundling up the soiled sheets and carting them off to the washing machine that Meg had in a small room off of her kitchen. "Cas wants to do a real date, by the way."

"He told me," Meg replied trailing after him and leaning with her arms crossed over her chest in the doorway, watching him struggle with her ancient washing machine that he had fixed on more than one occasion for her. "You and I should go get breakfast and plot out my intricate seduction of Charlene Bradbury over mimosas and an obscene amount of scrambled eggs."

"You sure your boyfriend isn't gonna get mad at me if I let you take me out to breakfast?" Dean teased, ignoring how it made his heart hurt a little bit that everyone was going to think that Cas was Meg's and not know that the actor belonged heart and soul to him instead.

"Not if I tell him that you treated me," Meg said sticking her tongue out at him and going off to gather her purse. "You owe me, Dean. I'm sacrificing dating every coked out of her mind actress between here and Mexico for you and your future husband. It's really the very least you could do."

"You're right, you are a saint," Dean corrected himself, perching on the back of the couch and crossing his leg onto his knee so that he could tie up the laces of his boots. "And I will feed you for the rest of your life if it means that I get to see Cas every day and can keep him away from Balthazar Roche."

"Charlie said he's a good guy," the girl cajoled. "And apparently he's being a really good friend to Cas. She said that you and him would probably get on like gangbusters."

"I bet. Can we go now?" the bartender asked, changing the subject off of something that would make him start cycling like a jealous jerk again when he knew that if anyone was being too friendly with anyone, it was Balthazar towards Cas and his boyfriend would tell the other man to back off if it got too out of hand. Wouldn't he?

"Oh, Dean." Meg cooed, hooking her arm through his and leading him out the door and to the elevator. "This is a good idea, Charlie is a genius. You get your man and I get my girl and everyone is happy. What could possibly go wrong?"

"You realize that's what people say in movies right before something goes wrong right?"

"Shut up, you're spoiling my moment." The other woman snapped, smiling serenely as the elevator took them down to the bottom floor of her apartment complex.

Luckily visitors needed to be buzzed in to get into the front glass doors of Meg's building, so it gave Dean enough time to step away from her and shove her out ahead of him when the metal doors in front of them slid open to reveal a crush of paparazzi milling around directly outside the doors, cameras at the ready to snap a picture of the nameless woman who had managed to snag Hollywood's latest up and coming bachelor. As soon as they saw Meg the flashbulbs started going off and muffled questions were hurled at her through the glass separating the two of them from the men and women who really were just trying to do their jobs.

"What's your name?"

"How long have you and James Collins been an item?"

"Do you like Coke or Pepsi?"

Dean just shrugged when Meg looked back at him with a terrified expression on her face before pulling out his phone and shooting off a message to Charlie that she and Cas better start coming up with the details of their whole stupid lie.

* * *

"How'd it go?" Charlie asked Castiel, punching at the buttons on her controller so that she could shoot the zombie that was sneaking up behind Alfie on the screen.

"Fine," the actor sighed, running a hand through his hair before freezing and leaning to the side, craning his neck so that he could see into the foyer. "Where's Crowley?"

"He went out for bagels for Balthy," Alfie replied, making a whipping motion with his hand before hurriedly putting it back onto the controller and cursing under his breath when a baddie jumped out of nowhere from the side of the screen. "No so scary now that he's whipped."

Castiel smirked at the younger man and set his phone down on the kitchen counter, rubbing at his temples. "I think I'm going to go back to sleep."

"Yea, you realize that the volume on Meg's television only goes so high right?" Charlie asked, glancing back at him.

"We'll never be louder than Crowley and Balthazar," Castiel replied jokingly, heading out of the room and towards the stairs.

"You'd think that was something to aspire to," Alfie muttered, settling back on the couch from where he had been sitting on the edge now that all of the zombies were dead and he and Charlie were moving onto another part of the building that they were exploring.

"Where did you get off to last night?" Charlie asked, crossing her legs underneath herself and pulling one of the throw pillows into her lap. "Keep in mind that you stole my car and I've low jacked that sucker so you can tell me or I can look it up online. Honesty is easier."

"Says the girl who just lied about the girl she likes being her friend's beard."

"We aren't talking about me," Charlie replied, elbowing the younger man sharply in the ribs. "We're talking about you and why you went to an all night diner in my car over in Bayview instead of staying with me and Meg and watching _Xena_ and planning your Iolaus cosplay with us."

"Who the hell is Iolaus?" Alfie asked, making his character jump onto a bookshelf for no other reason than he could.

"He is Hercules' sidekick. We've already decided that Dean is going to be Hercules."

"And Cas?"

"Picture some amazing facial hair on him and we have our perfect Ares." Charlie replied ruefully, causing the other man to groan in disbelief. "But seriously, who did you go to meet?"

"Why do you think I went to meet someone? Maybe I just really wanted some diner food at four o'clock in the morning."

"That's understandable, but I know from experience that I've had some of my best, most life-altering conversations over greasy burgers and bad coffee in tiny roadside diners. Spill."

"I met someone," Alfie said simply. "Last night when you and Meg went to track down the boys, a guy bought me a drink."

"Suck it, Fergie!" Charlie said, doing a spinning kick to open a door that probably would have opened if she had just hit 'X'. "He totally thought you were straight, by the way. I now own the moon; you may visit me in my new kingdom of Moondoor, where I am the queen."

"Good to know that you all have been speculating about my sexuality."

"Relax, dude." The girl said, sounding more apologetic than you would expect about the whole betting thing. "He hired you because he thought you were straight, so take it as you paying back his threats by pulling one over on him. What's his name?"

"Chris, he's a teacher."

"You and Dean with your nerds, that's cute." Charlie commented jokingly.

"You're one to talk Ms. I-have-a-Princess-Leia-tattoo," Aflie replied, picking up a gun where it was hidden under a table in the room they were in.

"Hey, it's awesome, she's riding a twenty sided die, and what happens at Comic-Con stays at Comic-Con," Charlie said sternly. "What does your teacher teach?"

"Art or something at UCLA I think."

"That's very specific, Alf. You're one hell of a listener." The girl said drily, jumping up from her seat and pointing wildly at a hoard of zombies that had just appeared in the next room that they had been headed into. "Shoot, Iolaus!"

"For Moondoor!" The younger man yelled, firing wildly into the mêlée until Charlie's phone started buzzing on the coffee table in front of them and they had to pause the game to take care of whatever new drama their respective bosses were freaking out over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Alfie and happy holidays and all updates for everything are still gonna happen this week even though people have lives and families and other things to do besides read fanfiction. I have nothing else to do, so I'll keep writing it. Enjoy your turkey and catch up all at once. 
> 
> Also guys, I have a tumblr where I sometimes post up stuff that doesn't make it anywhere else (drabbles, ficlets, random spn stuff) its :deathsteelwriter. So visit me if you feel like it, I am a lot less creepy than you are probably picturing.


	11. Chapter 11

Sam had one last final and one more paper due before he could call the semester quits, enjoy his birthday, visit with his brother and relax for pretty much the first time since moving to Stanford. One test, one twelve page paper and then his professors had all given him leave to take off from school early and they would email him his final grades as soon as they had them.

They liked the fact that he actually seemed to give a shit about school, especially since a majority of his tuition was scholarship and grant based so he had to keep his GPA up to stay in the program. Most of the other law students were funding their education using family money, coming from west coast judicial dynasties and following dutifully in their fathers' footsteps so that the firm could continue to have "& Sons" tacked onto their name like it mattered at all.

He was on page eight of his paper about torts when his roommate burst into his bedroom wielding his laptop and an agonized expression.

"Dude, that girl that your brother brought to Halloween, the angry lesbian feminazi?" Brady asked waving his hand like he wanted to make sure Sam knew exactly who he was talking about.

"Her name is Meg and you sound like an asshole right now." Sam said tiredly, wondering when exactly his normal roommate had started acting like a complete douche bag; probably sometime after spring break.

"Yea well whatever," the other man said waving him off, agitatedly before turning his laptop around so that the screen faced Sam, revealing a full color photo of his brother's best friend gazing adoringly at a scruffy looking, dark-haired man as they walked down the street hand in hand. "That chick blew me off, told me she was anti-dick and now she's dating some fucking movie star?! What the hell?"

"I don't know," Sam said, trying to hide how pleased he was that Brady was so obviously offended about being passed over by a girl he had said was "in the bag". He had been ecstatic when his brother told him that Brady was about to be turned down in the most embarrassing way possible, mostly because it meant that Meg wouldn't be yelling at him about how shitty his costume was anymore. "Maybe she thought she could do better."

"I'm going to be a fucking doctor! A doctor, Sam!" Brady yelled petulantly, snapping his laptop shut. "I am going to reach inside people and massage their hearts back to life. An actor, really? California sucks."

"Maybe you should consider a career change," Sam said with a shrug.

"Fucking James Collins," the other man muttered, turning towards the door and shaking his head disgustedly. "I could've sworn that guy was a fag, fucking voice over soap opera hack."

Sam shook his head and turned back to his own computer, trying to find his train of thought that Brady had completely and utterly derailed with his intolerant hate-speech. He really needed to find a new roommate next year, someone who didn't conveniently forget that his brother was gay whenever they wanted to vent about their shitty love life using asshole slurs. But something was nagging him, Dean had said that Meg was a lesbian, hadn't he? Coming out of a long-term relationship that had ended badly over the summer and that's why she had gotten so wasted on Halloween, ranting about how Paris Fashion Week had ruined her life.

He sighed in defeat and saved his paper again before clicking over to his web browser and hunting down the photo that Brady had been freaking out over, which wasn't very hard since it was pretty much the first thing that came up when he typed 'James Collins' into Google. Sam frowned at the picture, trying to figure out what it was about the image that was bothering him so much. He knew it wasn't the fact that Meg was with a man and not a woman, Sam had learned long ago not to prescribe to set in stone ideals about sexuality; back when he was in elementary school and his brother who he had worshipped back then had come out to him and their parents over a very awkward family dinner.

Meg looked the same as ever, the smiling was kind of freaking him out, but she had been upset and teary most of Halloween so it was probably something that she did like a normal person and Sam just hadn't seen it yet. No, it was definitely the guy; the actor. He looked to be a little older than Dean, about the same height and build with a wide easy smile and eyes that were hidden behind mirrored aviators. Familiar looking, so maybe he had seen him in something. That had to be it.

Wait, it was the shirt, Dean had that same shirt. It was a t-shirt for the band Survivor and Sam had bought one just like it for his older brother after Dean had done a very rousing karaoke rendition of _Eye of the Tiger_ at Sam's twenty first birthday party. He had spent a fortune for it on eBay because it was a limited release, tour edition t-shirt, but the look on his brother's face had totally been worth it when it had shown up in the mail at their old apartment in Lawrence. The actor was wearing it with jeans held up by an oversized belt buckle and a grayish blue cardigan that had elbow patches.

He smirked at that, thinking that it looked just like something one of Dean's nerd crushes would wear before he went to click away from the page, so that he could get back to his paper and then cram some studying in for his final that he was supposed to take that night during his professor's office hours. Sam stopped short though, pausing his cursor over the picture right along the collar of the shirt that Meg's beau was wearing.

Huh, Dean's shirt had a tear right there too. Maybe it was a manufacturing flaw, a weak spot in the stitching that made every shirt get a hole in that same spot. Something was telling him to drop it there, to leave it alone because if he started thinking too much about how off this picture of Meg and the other man felt then he would start obsessing over it and get distracted from school.

But curiosity had always been Sam's Achilles' heel, so he went back to Google and found another picture of the pair, taken at a different angle when they had been wandering around a farmer's market and the actor had his cell phone pressed to his ear as he bent over a stall full of summer squash. The back of his sweater had hiked up a bit, revealing the hem at the back of the shirt underneath and...

There, there it was.

Once, Sam had been cleaning up Bobby's kitchen after Dean had cooked dinner. It had been beef bolongnese or something else with pasta that their uncle had utterly decimated when trying to pronounce it with his thick, drawling accent, but regardless it had been delicious just like all of Dean's cooking was. And Sam had been stuck cleaning up, doing the dishes and wiping down counters as Bobby pulled Dean to the side to give his opinion again about how the other man was refusing to settle down; it wasn't that long after that asshole had attacked his brother and put him in the hospital and they had moved to that horrible apartment in the shady part of Lawrence.

There had been an incident with a mislabeled bottle of Lysol that was really bleach and Dean had leaned up against the counter top that Sam had just sprayed with the concoction. The resulting discoloration had been confined mostly to Dean's jeans with just a bit seeping up onto the hem of his shirt before he could get it off and into the wash in an effort to save his favorite shirt. And now Meg's boyfriend just happened to be wearing the same shirt that had the same hole and the same stain on it in the exact same places.

"Goddamnit, Dean." Sam muttered, fumbling for his cell phone and angrily punching in his brother's number.

His older brother had done plenty of stupid shit in his time: jumping off the roof of their high school to impress some guy from another school, consuming more alcohol than food most of the time, literally everything involving Victor, and afterwards, hooking up with every random dude that caught his eye. But if Dean had talked Meg into doing what he thought she was doing, then this was going right at the top of the dumb shit list forever and always.

" _Sammy!"_ Dean answered excitedly, shushing the voices that Sam could hear talking in the background of the call. _"What's going on, baby brother? You almost done with you classes?"_

"Yea, I'll be done by the end of the week," Sam replied, rubbing at his temples and trying to gather his thoughts. "Listen man, I called because Brady came to me with something weird an—"

" _How is doctor jerkface!?"_ Dean interrupted, chuckling to himself about the nickname that he had given Sam's roommate after he had started complaining to his brother about how horrible it had become living with the pre-med student. _"Yes, baby. That is his name, why would I make that up?"_

"Who else is there?" Sam asked, lifting his head and clicking around on his computer until the Word document containing his paper was pulled back up before ambling over to his bed and collapsing down on to it. Conversations with his brother always seemed to last a lot longer than he ever intended them to.

" _Just Cas and Meg,"_ Dean said warmly. _"She's telling him all about how she crushed your sexist roommate's hopes and dreams on Halloween."_

"Yea about that," Sam cut in, stopping the older man before he had to listen to his brother and Meg reminiscing about how much his costume had sucked compared to their own, again. "Brady's pretty...um hurt? About Meg's new boyfriend. She's into dudes now?"

" _Oh,"_ Dean said, telling the background voices that he would be right back before Sam could hear footsteps and a door shutting through his phone's earpiece. His brother cleared his throat before speaking again, _"You saw that did you?"_

"Yeah, I mean. It's not really my place to have an opinion about her love life or anything, but I won't lie and say I wasn't a bit surprised about the whole thing. I thought she made it pretty clear on Halloween that she wasn't looking for anything serious. Meg made out with a girl in a cat suit, Dean. I thought you were teaching her the joys of bachelorhood or something."

" _A person can't change their mind?"_ Dean asked suddenly, sounding defensive just like Sam had thought the other man would. _"Maybe he's the one, Sam. Did you ever stop to think about that?"_

"So you've met him? He's a good guy, he's gonna treat her right and stuff?"

" _He's amazing, Sam."_ Dean stated bluntly. _"A real gentleman, handsome, funny, smart. Really fucking smart, you're going to like him so much."_

"Yea, I'm really looking forward to meeting, Cas. He sounds like a real good guy." Sam said, calculatingly because he knew that his older brother wouldn't catch it because he was in that same euphoric, happy state that had blinded him to Victor's cheating and he had probably already forgotten that they were supposed to be talking about Meg's boyfriend, James Collins.

" _He's excited to meet you too, Sammy. We're planning a big dinner for you and Bobby once he gets into town and...fuck."_

"Are you referring to the fact that you're secretly dating a movie star or that apparently uncle Bobby is braving his fear of flying to come and see us? Because both of those seem pretty 'oh fuck' worthy to me." Sam said, staring up at his ceiling with a smug smile tugging at his mouth. "And does Meg know she's your boyfriend's publicity girlfriend or is that something else you've conveniently forgotten to tell people?"

" _She knows,"_ Dean muttered into the phone. _"And I was going to tell you, Sammy. When you met him, Cas, I was going to tell you and Bobby at the same time."_

"So Bobby is really coming for my birthday?"

" _Surprise!"_ Dean said ruefully, sighing heavily with a static puff into the phone and across the distance separating them. _"Are you mad?"_

"Mad is not the word that I would use to describe it," Sam replied, furrowing his brows as he tried to force his mind out of the Latin legalese lawyer jargon he seemed to use more than actual English these days when he talked to people. "Stupefied?"

" _You're stupefied. Don't you think that's just a little bit harsh? I mean I'm not a bad looking guy, I can get a movie star."_

"That's not what I meant," Sam corrected, cutting off his older brother before he started off on some tangent about all of the things he thought weren't good enough about himself, listing the reasons that he had used to for years to justify his promiscuousness after Victor told Dean that he had cheated on him because he wasn't experienced enough.

"Stupefied was the wrong word to use. Um...how about apprehensive? Intrigued about how and why the rest of the world thinks your Cas, sorry. James Collins, is dating Meg 'Ballbreaker' Masters. Concerned because obviously this is a dumb idea. Dean, this is a dumb, stupid, completely idiotic idea."

" _You don't think I haven't told them that?"_ Dean complained through the phone. _"They're in fucking cahoots with each other, Meg and Cas are like, conspiring to make me go gray before I'm thirty."_

"Tell them then," Sam said simply. "Tell your famous boyfriend that if he keeps you a secret then he's going to be stuck paying for your botox from all the wrinkles he's giving you."

" _Cut him some slack, Sam."_ The other man sighed. _"I've told him that I don't want to be a secret forever and we're trying this whole Meg-thing, but it's not easy for some people to come out of the closet. Not everyone had people around to help them like I did."_

"Not everyone's mom and dad and Bobby, you mean."

" _Yea, the world is a cruel, cruel place Sammy-boy. Get your ass out of law school so you can fight for justice and the rights of the downtrodden and stuff."_ Dean joked as a deep voice questioned what he was doing in the background. _"I'm talking to my brother. Wanna say hi, Cas?"_

" _Dean, no I don't think that's a good idea. I've got to be going soon so I just wanted to say bye before Meg took me back to the house."_

" _C'mon, baby. He's really excited to meet you and I've got to go get Meg because Sammy said he wanted to talk to her, too."_

"Don't get, Meg." Sam begged, pulling the phone away from his ear so that he could focus on making himself heard through the mouthpiece. "DON'T GET MEG. I'll talk to Cas all day, but if you get Meg I'm putting her on the phone with Brady."

" _Sam?"_ An unfamiliar voice questioned through the earpiece as the law student put the phone back to his head. _"Hello? This is Castiel, Cas. Um...hi."_

"Hi," Sam said warily, unsure of exactly how much his brother had told the other man about their lives and their parents and everything that had caused the two of them to end up moving together across the country because they were all each other had ever consistently had. "So I can call you Cas, right? That's what Dean's been calling you and I don't know if I can start calling you James this late in the game, man."

" _Oh, so he told you about that?"_ the other man asked uncertainly. _"Um...well my friends and family call me Cas or Castiel so that's fine if you're comfortable with that."_

"Do you love him?" Sam asked, deciding that directness was probably the best bet when talking to your gay brother's in the closet famous movie star boyfriend who had the world's angriest woman as his beard. This situation was fifty kinds of fucked and he didn't want there to be any more uncertainty regarding his brother and relationships and guys who were just using Dean or were out to hurt him.

" _Wow. Okay, that um...bluntness must be a family trait then. I thought that it was just Dean and maybe it had rubbed off on Meg, but man. You guys are relentless,"_ Castiel rambled nervously.

"Is that a no, then?" Sam deadpanned, pressing his lips firmly together to keep the edge out of his voice.

" _I love your brother very much, Sam."_ The other man stated plainly. _"But I know where you are going with this, I've already had to hear it from Meg and Jess."_

"Who is Jess?"

" _One of the waitresses at their bar, too sweet for her own good?"_ Castiel described, _"I guess you haven't met her, anyway they've both been on my case non-stop about keeping Dean a secret."_

"So you know that it's not very fair to him then?" Sam asked, the question coming out harsher than he intended. "He's gotten the shaft in relationships before and back then he was too blinded by something Victor kept telling him was love to see that he was being lied to."

" _I don't know who Victor is."_

"Well, just know that if you really love Dean then you won't keep him squirreled away like you're ashamed of him forever. Because my brother has a tendency to expect the worst these days and the last thing you want from him is an ultimatum. He will leave, Cas." Sam didn't mean for his declaration to sounds as ominous as it did, but it was true.

" _It's not forever, Sam. I just need to figure out what I'm going to do. I promise you that I'm not ashamed of him."_ Castiel replied seriously.

"Good, because if you hurt him then I don't care if I never become a lawyer, I will kill you."

" _Is that Sammy on the phone? My little Sammy!? Cas, give me the phone right now!"_

"Hey Meg," Sam said forcing his voice to sound cheery as he sank even farther into the bed with a defeated sigh. "How's your new boyfriend working out for you?

" _He's actually kissing your brother right now,"_ Meg replied making a retching sounding into the phone. _"Dean, Cas go somewhere else! The adults are speaking and you're making me want to puke."_

"Seriously, Meg," Sam began, running a face over his hand and wondering if he should abandon his paper after he got off the phone and just go straight to studying instead. "James or Cas or whatever, what do you think of him?"

" _Sam, they are so ridiculously in love that it's disgusting. It's just a matter of time before he gives in on this whole hiding thing."_

"Fantastic, now tell me what you're getting out of helping him with this whole stupid scheme."

" _Well, I know you like blondes,"_ Meg said teasingly. _"But I've always been partial to redheaded geniuses myself."_

* * *

After a week of letting James and Megan decide their own appearances out of the house, relying on the media to just know from spotting them out and about or word of mouth to spread the story that Balthazar Roche's leading man was officially off the market (making the public even more hungry for stories about the girl who had snatched the actor up or rumors of trouble in paradise), Crowley finally figured out a way to work around Balthazar and his very welcome advances to check up on his biggest asset/liability who still had not bothered to bring his partner in crime by the house when he was there so that the agent could meet her.

The Scotsman suspected a conspiracy, one that involved all of the people who were living in the rather large home that he had rented for the duration of their time in San Francisco, including Balthazar who Crowley could admit that he had become rather attached to. He was hesitant to call it love or associate any amorous feelings whatsoever to his relationship with the other man, mostly because last time he had let his emotional guards down it had forced him to rebuild his reputation from the ground up; starting in Boston with a nobody named Castiel Krushnic. Five years later and apparently his heart hadn't learned its lesson, but he was going to be damned if he let anyone else on to that fact.

So after a week of seeing pictures of his client plastered all over every reputable celebrity website and almost every less reputable gossip rag that littered the newsstands (they were competing with Brad and Angelina's latest drama), Crowley decided that he wasn't getting paid a substantial salary from James to sit idly by and let the paparazzi tell him what was going on with his star. The whole schtick that the other man and his faux paramour had going on with the hand holding and the farmer's markets was cute and all, but eventually the public was going to want more, specifically a kiss. Crowley just needed to be sure that James' friend was as committed to this ruse as he kept assuring him she was and to do that he needed to talk to her.

James never let go of his damn phone long enough for him to steal it and give the woman a blasted ring like he wanted to do and that traitor Charlie refused to help him until he made some kind of romantic declaration towards her boss, which was unnecessary because Balthazar was not some neurotic sodding teenager who needed constant reassurance from him. So he took the only route left open to him, following her or more accurately, following the paparazzi that were following her.

The actor had told him that Megan had complained to him that she didn't have any privacy anymore and Balthazar had loaned out Charlie while he lent Alfie out to run interference against the more determined men and women following her around so most of the time the press just followed her to work and back home. It was only when James made an appearance that they got really obnoxious, shouting questions and generally just making a nuisance of themselves in order to get a reaction out of the pair. He had been told by the redheaded assistant that Megan was seriously struggling to not flip off "every hipster with a Canon" that made a living off of trying to take a picture of her without makeup on.

It seemed innocent enough, taking Balthazar out for a drink after another week spent filming this time in one of the luxurious houses that were in an even nicer neighborhood than their own rented house if that was possible. The McMansion was supposed to be the stand-in for Bridgette's family home, belonging to a Silicon Valley dynasty that the character coveted enough to murder for it and Naomi had said that it was passable even though the sparse, immaculateness had driven Balthazar absolutely bonkers. It suited the character though, who was supposed to have been raised by nannies and au pairs, deprived of the parental love that would have instilled some empathy into the treacherous Bridgette.

He loaded the other man into the Aston, warning James to be good when he left him playing some video game or other against Alfie and Charlie giggling over some phone call she was on in the nearby armchair. The trio just rolled their eyes at him and James told him to be nice, with a pointed look towards Balthazar like the other man could influence his behavior in the slightest. The director had seen Crowley make waiters cry and he hadn't ran off yet, if that wasn't better than love he didn't know what was.

Crowley drove them past Megan's apartment in Chinatown first, keeping a sharp eye out for the paparazzi that he had been told lurked around the outer doors anytime she was home, but the parking lot was free of photographers, so he continued on to the bar she managed; some trendy little place called The Boulevard or The Grotto or something vaguely directional that he couldn't remember until he pulled up and opened the passenger side door for Balthazar, letting himself be pulled in to have his tie straightened by the other man that ended in a filthy, teasing kiss that he really should have been expecting.

The agent glanced up at the sign as they nodded their way past the bouncer: The Neighbourhood, how dull. One last look around the parking lot confirmed that the woman's red Mustang was in the lot, so at least she was here. He frowned as a rumbling, black Impala pulled into the lot and swung wildly around towards the back of the building, not just because it was loud to the point of obscenity, but also because something about it was causing him to grit his teeth as the familiarity of it triggered a hazy memory that he couldn't quite grasp.

They made a beeline for the bar for different reasons, Balthazar because he had been moaning and groaning the entire drive over about how he was dying for a scotch on the rocks after his week from hell with Naomi and Crowley because he needed someone to point him in the direction of Megan Masters so he could suss out exactly what kind of person she was. James said she was doing all of this out of the kindness of her heart, but he still wasn't buying it; five years, Naomi Tapping, and a lot of anxious moments where he almost caved and auctioned off the Aston had taught him to be wary of scenarios that seemed too good to be true.

The blonde behind the bar smiled sharkishly at them, eyeing Balthazar for a couple seconds longer than Crowley was entirely comfortable with so he slipped an arm around the director's waist as they leaned together against the bar top. That wiped the smile off her face pretty fast and she sighed heavily when the Englishman ordered his drink and then promptly turned to start kissing Crowley's neck as he grinned triumphantly at the girl and told her to make it two.

"You're so cute when you're jealous," Balthazar muttered into his neck, bumping his denim covered hip against Crowley's own Armani clad one.

"I'm not cute," Crowley replied drily, side-eyeing him and trying not to get lost in the other man's blue eyes. He cleared his throat and shifted away to reach his wallet when the blonde returned with their amber colored drinks. "And I prefer protective, jealous sounds so juvenile."

"Either way, I like it." The director declared, winking conspiratorially at the blonde who gave them both a gooey-eyed stare before wandering off again.

They had been getting that look a lot when they went out together and once upon a time it would've driven Crowley to shatter the will to live of the closest underling assistant or next unfortunate secretary who happened to be on the other end of the phone with him, all in an effort to reassert himself as the most feared talent agent in all of Los Angeles. But maybe it was San Francisco or more likely it was Balthazar, making him soft around the edges and less prone to snapping at people when they gave him that look. Unfortunately it all served to make him feel guilty about the fact that he was rubbing his whatever he had with Balthazar right in his client's face, an emotion that he wasn't familiar or comfortable with.

"Excuse me darling," Crowley called, catching a passing redheaded waitress's attention as she made her way back behind the bar to mix a drink while the blonde was busy talking to a burly looking bouncer who had made his way over from his position near a velvet roped doorway. "Could you be ever so kind as to point me in the direction of Megan Masters?"

"Fergus, what are you doing?" Balthazar muttered beside him as the red head stood on tiptoe to peer over their heads and off into the crush of people socializing throughout the rest of the bar. "We agreed no business talk when we're out on dates."

"It's not business, Balthzar." Crowley replied amicably, nodding at the girl when she said she would be right back. "This is a social call, I want to meet our lovely boy's lovely girlfriend and he is embarrassed of me so I'm taking it upon myself to make the introductions."

"Did you tell Castiel about this?" the other man asked, putting a hand on his hip and frowning down at the shorter Scotsman.

"I thought this would go better if _James_ didn't have a chance to stop me," the agent stated simply, putting emphasis on the actor's stage name because there were all sorts of very flamboyant parades and such that Castiel Krushnic had taken part in during his wild college days and he had not spent five years keeping that under wraps just to have it blown apart by the man who also happened to be the best lay of his life.

A petite brunette woman that Crowley recognized from pictures as being his client's faux girlfriend ambled out past the velvet rope of the VIP bar, stopping to poke her head down a hallway that led off with reflected, mirrored light down to a red-lit exit sign. "Winchester! Hurry the fuck up, already. Stop primping for your fucking boyfriend, you're worse than a freaking girl."

"Oh that brilliant," Crowley said, gesturing with his chin towards the woman who desperately needed to take etiquette lessons if she was going to continue her charade with the notoriously nice James Collins. "It's like seeing Eliza before Professor Higgins got a hold of her."

Balthazar swallowed nervously as she approached them, pointed in their direction by the redhead who had said something to the dark haired woman that made her frown in confusion. When she got closer, Crowley saw her eyes widen in recognition when she looked at Balthazar, well she may not know who the hell he was but at least James had had the foresight to school her in who the famous people she might interact with as his partner were.

"Hello, love," Balthazar said, reaching out for her hand and pulling the woman in to give her familiar, affectionate kisses on both of her cheeks. "It's a pleasure to meet the girl who's been so kind to our James. I'm Balthazar Roche."

"Yea, I know." The woman breathed, blushing under the attention of the charming Englishman and Crowley tried to keep himself getting hot under the collar over all of the interest that the other man was getting from all of the bar patrons, male and female. "Clarence and I watched your movie, the one about the British guys, I bawled like a fucking baby."

"Well thank you," Balthazar replied graciously, keeping a grip on her hand as he turned towards Crowley, putting his back against the bar and gestured between the two of them. "But this is the man that you really need to meet. James' closest friend, guardian, and for the last two weeks barely tolerable housemate, Fergus Crowley."

"Just Crowley," he corrected, extending his hand out towards the woman and registering the fear that flickered in her eyes with his usual glee that he quickly tamped down because what exactly had James been saying about him to make her look at him like he wanted to eat all of the kittens in the world. "I've been badgering James about meeting you all week; I finally decided to take matters into my own hands. Sorry for the unexpected visit, Megan."

"It's fine, great even." The girl choked out, glancing between him and Balthazar with a tight smile on her face. "And um...call me Meg. Only my creepy uncle Carl calls me Megan and that dude is not someone you want to be associated with."

"Consider it noted," Crowley replied, trying to joke in that bland way that Balthazar liked, but didn't really come across to everyone. Meg laughed though, sounding slightly pained and excusing herself for a moment to dart back behind towards the mirrored hallway.

"Strange girl," Balthazar said laughingly, glancing over the room cursorily before moving in close to smooth non-existent wrinkles out of the shoulders of Crowley's suit jacket.

The blonde who had served their drinks was back behind the bar, popping tops off of bottles of beer and loading them onto a circular tray for another blonde girl with wavy hair who was chattering to her in a friendly, absentminded way.

"So they went to a famer's market and he called Dean asking like what his favorite vegetables were to cook with and stuff. Then he bought like a huge basket of squash and eggplant and fancy artisan cheeses and stuff and surprised him with it."

"That's weird," the bartender replied, crinkling her nose in distaste. "Dude must have the biggest hard-on for bouquets ever. We should see if he'll do a chocolate bouquet for Dean for their anniversary or something. I'd settle for a fruit one though, as long as there are white chocolate strawberries."

"Jo, you don't get it. It's romantic, Dean cooked all of them lunch and they watched _The Princess Bride,_ Meg held her lady-friend's hand and it was probably the sweetest moment ever." The waitress sighed wistfully and propped her chin up on her hand, gazing off starry-eyed. "I want a boyfriend."

"If you came out with me, you'd have one." The other girl replied, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"No, I'd have a year's supply of condoms like you do," the waitress said, hefting the tray up onto her hip. "Thanks, but no thanks, Jo. I'd rather deal with bachelor parties all night than go out to one of those clubs with you."

"Your loss."

"Why does that name sound so familiar?" Crowley muttered, mostly to himself as Balthazar pulled out his phone and purposefully clicked away on it.

"What, darling?" Balthazar asked, glancing up from his phone and giving him a dazzling smile.

Crowley shook his head and glanced back towards the hallway that Meg had disappeared down, feeling like something was pulling him in that direction. Those girls had been talking about James' friend, saying that she was holding another woman's hand and since no pictures had been leaked of it he could only assume it was being done behind closed doors. Maybe that's why she was so interested in helping the actor with his heterosexual dilemma; she must be having one of her own.

"Would you excuse me for a moment?" Crowley murmured, not waiting for an answer before he was dropping a kiss on the other man's lips and moving purposefully towards the hallway, intending to track down Meg and thank her sincerely enough that she wasn't afraid of him anymore for helping James who he truly did consider a friend.

It wasn't until he reached the door marked employees only, grimacing at his own reflection bouncing across the walls showing just how much his hairline had receded from stress while dealing with the whole aftermath of the debacle that had almost ended his career, that all of the pieces fell into place. The car and the name and how it had felt like something was being kept from him since the second he had stepped into that gaudy god-forsaken house in Sea Cliff.

That bloody, blind wanker was going to ruin all of this for all of them and Crowley was going to be the laughing stock of Los Angeles all over again. He was going to lose everything this time: his closest friend, Balthazar, his reputation, the Aston. And even then all he could think about was what Castiel was going to do to help his parents if he lost everything, that and choking the actor to death with his bare hands for keeping him out of the loop, but the worry was overriding his usually overwhelming desire to murder someone when he was pissed off.

And then the door in front of him opened and all of his fears were confirmed. Because there was the same man who he had seen in those blackmailing pictures with his client all those months ago, leather jacket draped loosely over his arm and keys jangling in his hand when he stopped short when confronted with Crowley's motionless form. The part of him that was friends with Castiel Krushnic could admit that he was just the other man's type, handsome and rugged looking with features that were surprisingly delicate for a man, but the part that was James Collins' take-no-prisoners agent only saw the other half of the pair that was out to drive him mad.

"Sorry, man." The other man apologized, his green eyes dark and distant with worry as he licked his lips anxiously and glanced towards the exit. "Didn't mean to barrel you down, excuse me."

"No," Crowley spat out, pointing a hard finger into the taller man's chest. "You are going to step back into that room and explain to me why I've been being lied to for the last who knows how long and then you're going to call James or Castiel or Clarence or whatever you people call him and tell him to get his arse down here now before I rip someone's spine out of their throat."

He watched the range of emotions and realization flitter across the other man's face. First fury, at being insulted and threatened by someone shorter and weaker looking than he was, then the moment that the words sunk all the way in and his eyes widened. Mouthing wordlessly while Meg appeared behind him, phone pressed to her ear as she cursed softly into the device. Finally there was resignation, but even though he expected the other man's features to settle there, the agent found himself taking a step back in an effort to dodge the tight hug that the other man wrapped him in, laughing with relief before clapping him on the back companionably.

"Dude, you have no idea how happy I am to finally meet you. Crowley, right?" The taller man took a step back, handing his jacket back to Meg who was watching them with a dumbfounded expression on her face and her cell phone drooping where it was held up to her ear, before sticking out a hand between them for a handshake. "Name's Dean Winchester and I am in fucking love with James Collins."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if this helps anything. I want to please everyone, I really do, but I don't know what to do and Thanksgiving wore me out. I'm exhausted like physically and mentally and I'm bummed about BtR, so sue me. If this isn't up to par, I apologize for everything. I don't know what else to do. (God, I sound super depressing right now. Sorry)


	12. Chapter 12

"What the fuck do you mean, 'Dean just hugged him'?" Cas cursed, yelling in the oppressive silence of the town car after Meg's amazed sounding announcement made it's way through the speaker of Charlie's cell phone.

" _I mean he fucking hugged the king of hell and then dragged him off to the VIP bar saying that drinks were on him now that he didn't have to hide from him anymore,"_ Meg clarified, still sounding dumbstruck even though he could hear music pulsing softly in the background so she must be near the VIP bar too.

"And what did Crowley do?" Alfie asked from the front seat, looking at Castiel in the rearview mirror as he passed by the bar for the third time, circling around the block again because the actor was still too scared to go in and face his agent.

" _Okay, I don't know if this is something he normally does, but from what Charlie has told me I don't think it is."_

"What did he do, Meg!?" Castiel practically screamed, feeling like he was hyperventilating in the small confines of the town car.

He knew he sounded hysterical, but never in a million years would he have expected Dean to throw himself on the sword like that. The actor had been hoping to ease Crowley into the idea of him having a boyfriend, a secret one of course that the press didn't know about, but still someone who he didn't have to sneak out past the Scotsman like a rebellious teenager to go and see. They could keep up the story of Meg being his girlfriend and then he could finally make good on that date with Dean, take him out to dinner and a movie and make it look like a double date or something.

And he knew that Dean was frustrated with the whole hiding thing, the other man didn't miss an opportunity to remind him how much it sucked to be treated like someone's dirty secret and Sam had pretty much told him that it was put up or shut up on making Dean feel like he was wanted. Cas still didn't know who Victor was, but judging from how his boyfriend's brother had spat out the name it wasn't someone who he wanted to remind Dean of.

" _Dude, he smiled. Dean hugged him, introduced himself and said he loved you, and all Crowley did was smile at him."_

"Was it the smile of someone who has resigned themselves to going to jail for the rest of their lives for manslaughter?" Charlie asked, shrugging at Castiel when he shot her a dirty look.

" _How does that even look, Charlie?"_

"It would be kind of serene and he probably would have shrugged a little before pulling out a shiv made out of a sharpened toothbrush and proceeding to stab Dean to death." Alfie joked from the front seat, pulling slowly into the parking lot of the bar even though Castiel clutched desperately at his shoulder when he pulled up next to the Aston and started to get out.

" _Crowley wants you to come in,"_ Balthazar's voice suddenly blared over the speaker, causing Castiel to let out a strangled sob of fear when he heard the accent that he thought was Scottish for just a second. _"He said to tell you that next time you keep a secret from him he is going to tear your kidney out with his teeth and then make Dean cook it for you."_

"Hey!" Charlie exclaimed, shaking Castiel lightly on the shoulder. "That's good news, you only need one kidney to live, Cas. So he can't be that mad."

" _Oh, he's pretty mad,"_ Balthazar corrected, chuckling warmly into the phone. _"But between me and Meg we've liquored him up enough that he may not notice at all when you show up."_

"How is Dean?" Castiel asked concernedly, trying to force the image of the green-eyed bartender lying eviscerated on the floor of Meg's office out of his head. He was exaggerating and he knew it, Crowley was a lot of talk, but he had never seen the other man hurt a fly and his agent had a disturbing fondness for his oversized Mastiff, Duchess, that he treated better than most production assistants so his concern was mostly founded on what Crowley could do to someone's reputation or career, namely his own, if the other man were to get upset about something.

" _He seems absolutely smitten with Crowley,"_ Balthazar replied sounding amused. _"They've been talking about you and bonding, I expect Fergus to pull out embarrassing pictures of you with acne and headgear any minute now. Me however, well I don't think that Mr. Winchester is a fan of my work in the slightest."_

"What does that mean?" Charlie asked, opening the door on her side of the car and snatching the phone out of Castiel's hand, thumbing off the speaker option and holding it up to her ear. "Y'know what? Nevermind, we're on our way in right now and you can tell us in person. You're running up my minutes here boss...yea, whatever I know you pay my phone bill, I'm just looking out for the bottom line. We're coming in the back door right now...stop laughing. I hate you."

"He and Meg are going to get along so well," Castiel muttered, running his hand over the hood of the Impala as he passed it even though he knew that he was going to see Dean in just a minute, he could use all of the courage he could get right now so that he didn't faint like a girl when he saw his agent.

With one last look around the parking lot and a hand through his messy hair, he nodded at Charlie that he was ready to go inside. The familiar mirrored hallway was empty and Meg was waiting for them at the end of it, grabbing on to Castiel's hand with a weary looking smile and putting a guiding hand on the small of Charlie's back as she led them quickly to the VIP bar and over to the furthest curtained booth, glaring daggers at anyone who looked like they were about to stop James Collins to ask for his autograph.

"Cool it, Meg." Charlie muttered, smiling apologetically when they got a couple of disbelieving scoffs in response to how protective and serious Meg was acting. "You're going to look like the jealous girlfriend, we're trying to make you look adorable and sweet enough for James Collins to break and finally date someone."

"You don't think I'm adorable and sweet?" Meg said looking up at Charlie under her eyelashes, her red stained lips curling up at the edges.

"Spare me, please," Crowley's voice filtered out of the booth before a perfectly manicured hand appeared and pulled back the curtain to reveal his agent looking glassy-eyed and a lot less angry than he had been expecting. The Scotsman pointed a finger at Castiel, settling his mouth into a stern frown that was not nearly as scary when the agent's tie was loosened and his hair was mussed and his lips looked all swollen and kiss bitten. "You, get in here and help me and Balthazar figure out this clusterfucked love triangle you seem to have stuck me with and you two, go get Dean or something. Make yourselves useful to someone other than James and for Christ's sake don't touch each other."

Meg and Charlie were already standing too close together for them to just look like a couple of girl friends out on the town together and at Crowley's comment they reluctantly put more space between them with Meg crossing her arms over her chest in annoyance and Charlie ducking her head behind the curtain to see if Balthazar needed her to get him anything. They headed off in the direction of the bar where Castiel could see the top of a light brown head moving back and forth among the bottles that were shelved on the backlit wall behind him.

He climbed into the booth, sliding around the U-shaped bench until he was sitting next to Balthazar at the top of the bend and leaving room on the end for Dean to sit next to him. The director wrapped an arm around his shoulders, giving Castiel's arm a comforting squeeze when the actor pulled off his glasses and let them clatter down onto the table top so that he could pinch the bridge of his nose; he could feel a headache forming right behind his eyes and now that he could have it, all he wanted was to sleep curled up with Dean in their driftwood bed back at the house without having to worry about sneaking out in the morning.

"What was your exit strategy here, James?" Crowley asked, sliding his right hand off the table to rest on Balthazar's leg while keeping his left firmly wrapped around the short glass of scotch that he was sipping. "I can only assume that it is Mensa worthy because otherwise you surely would've clued me in to all of this."

The actor let out a heavy sigh and leaned over Balthazar to snatch up the director's pint glass full of dark beer off of the table, pulling it closer along with its coaster as he resolutely refused to look at his agent until Dean was here to engage in this awkward chat with his new best friend. "No, strategy, Crow. I was just full of spunk and optimism."

Balthazar chuckled beside him, leaning into drop a kiss on the side of Crowley's disgruntled frowning face, "Ah, to be young."

"Can you at least tell me how long this has been going on? Because right now, it looks like you've been lying to me for months and I don't want to think about the blackmail that my secretary had been keeping from rolling across my desk. I would hate to fire the poor girl for just doing her job and trying to keep me happy."

"Just drop the whole threatening agent act for a bit Crow, because that is exactly what made me think I had to hide stuff from you," Castiel sighed, taking a sip of Balthazar's beer and glancing up when the curtain around the booth moved aside to admit Dean. "It's only been since I've been back up here, before that I didn't think Dean would ever even want to see me again, not after the way I treated him."

Castiel locked eyes with Dean, smiling apologetically at him and patting the seat beside him encouragingly when the other man hesitated before sitting down in the booth across from Crowley. He slid out from under Balthazar's arm and leaned in close to Dean, putting a hand on his leg and squeezing until the bartender turned his head and gave him a quick, anxious kiss. Dean put a beer bottle down in front of Cas, taking a drink out of the other one that he was carrying before sighing resignedly and wrapping an arm around Castiel's shoulders.

"I didn't want to see you again, jerk." Dean muttered, kissing him deeper than the first time until Crowley pointedly cleared his throat across from them.

"Liar," Castiel replied, picking up his glasses and putting them back on so that the expression of his agent came into sharp focus and finding himself surprised by how soft and forgiving it looked. "I know you're pissed that I didn't tell you, Crow—"

"It's more of a general disappointment I think," His agent interrupted. "But I am man enough to admit that if I had been more worried about you and less worried about the bottom line then none of this would've happened. Now I think that we're all big boys and can speak frankly about this, you've both had the birds and the bees talk I'm sure."

"Fergus, please," Balthazar said rolling his eyes and nudging Castiel's knee with his own. "Let's keep this short and sweet. I've already let you blow that no business rule halfway to Hades, at least let me try to salvage some of my evening."

"If you're bored you can leave," Dean snapped suddenly. "I don't even know why this is any of your business at all."

"Call it me having a personal interest in the future of you two," Balthazar replied, still smiling in the face of Dean's rudeness. Castiel had no idea why the other man was being so hostile towards the director when all Roche had done was help him and their relationship up to this point.

Dean scoffed and moved the hand that was around Castiel's shoulder up into his hair, playing with the messy strands and it took everything the actor had not to purr like a contended cat from the touch of the other man. Maybe Dean was just stressed, the weight of all of the lies having been lifted and making him irritable and tired, just like Cas. He and Balthazar were going to get along, they both had the same irreverent, sometimes juvenile sense of humor that Meg had and she was Dean's best friend, there was no way that the director and his partner weren't going to playing pranks on Crowley within a week.

"What are we going to do, Crowley?" Castiel asked, he had his own idea about how they should handle this, but he wanted to make Crowley feel useful and included because he could tell that his friend was more hurt than anything that they had kept him out of the loop.

He still wasn't sure what exactly had happened with his agent and Naomi, but he did know that more than anything Crowley hated not having all of the details about something. It was what made him so scary, his relentlessness, but it also made him a damn good agent and Castiel knew that he was lucky to have the other man on his side, especially now that his personal life was under the cold-hearted scrutiny of the press and he finally had someone worth keeping all to himself.

"You and Meg are going to continue on with your little charade that you have going, everyone seems to be buying it so I don't see any reason why we need to mess with success there," Crowley began, removing his hand from Balthazar's leg so that he could reach into his pocket and pull out his cell phone. "But you two are going to have to step it up. She needs to be seen acting like a girlfriend."

"I think she's been doing pretty well," Balthazar interjected. "Granted she's not wearing James' clothes around or anything, but then again some people don't need to walk around like a piece of marked territory to feel secure in their relationship."

Castiel glanced over at Dean who, yes, was wearing his stretched out and faded gray AC/DC shirt and glaring with a clenched jaw at the director who was just smiling around the table winningly as he stretched both of his arms out on either side of the booth beside him. If he didn't know any better, Cas would say that Balthazar was purposely pushing Dean's buttons, but he did know better and he knew that the director only picked on people that he liked; the things that Balthazar and Crowley joked to each other about, their off-putting way of flirting, would cause most people to call in spousal abuse or something to protect whichever one was losing their back and forth banter at the moment.

"I need a date out of you two, something intimate and romantic where you will be seen acting the perfect gentleman," Crowley continued, ignoring Balthazar because he was officially in agent mode and using his serious voice that always made Cas feel like he needed to sit up straighter.

"Cas is always a gentleman," Dean added, still staring hard at Balthazar. "It's Meg you're going to have to worry about, she's said that there are paparazzi following her everywhere and man, she's really only doing this because she wants to be around Charlie."

"I am well aware of that," Crowley muttered, frowning over at Balthazar who just shrugged and rested his hand on the back of the agent's neck. "Those two need to stop making doe-eyes at each other in public before it becomes a problem. Nip it in the bud, James."

"Now don't be hasty, love." Balthazar said quickly, running his thumb soothingly over Crowley's neck. "You can't force everyone into the closet after all, let the girls be friends."

"We had an idea about that," Castiel offered, licking his lips nervously and allowing himself the concession of leaning into Dean just a little because this was what he had come here for, seeing the bartender, not some end of the world strategy meeting that could ruin his career. "We we thinking maybe, Charlie could pose as Dean's girlfriend..."

"Do you really think that's something you could handle?" Crowley asked, staring at Dean with a calculating expression on his face. "I mean, you aren't an actor, Meg and Castiel are. They can put aside their emotions, their jealousies, and their personal lives to make their being together look believable. You are a bartender and Charlie is a PA, pardon me for being incredulous, but you need to be certain."

"I think we can manage to get along well enough to hold hands or whatever it is you're asking Meg and Cas to do. Charlie's a cool chick and all of this was her idea so I think she wouldn't mind being on board to help out as much as she can." Dean explained beside him, moving his arm down so that he could put his hand on top of Castiel's, linking their fingers together with a small smile on his face. "I'm willing to keep this a secret from the public, if it helps Cas's career, but the second that it looks like his reputation will survive coming out, I want him to be able to without you stopping him. If that's what he wants."

"That could take a lot longer than you think it will," Crowley said, letting his phone clatter down onto the table top. "There are no guarantees in this business. One minute, you're a media darling and everyone respects you, the next you're a laughingstock on the verge of losing everything. Are you prepared to deal with hiding forever if that's what it takes?"

"As long as the people that count know what the score is, I could really care less who the American public thinks that James Collins is with," Dean replied, he looked over at Castiel, green eyes burning with determination and resigned sadness. "I know what he means to me, so that's all that really matters."

"Well, then." Crowley sighed, running his free hand over his face before taking a sip of his scotch. "I guess the last thing we need to discuss are the rules."

"They aren't school children, Fergus." Balthazar murmured, leaning back across the table to reclaim his pint glass from Castiel who had started sipping on the bottled beer that Dean had brought him instead. "I'm sure we don't need to tell them they shouldn't run with scissors."

"Regardless," Crowley grumbled. "You two do not go out together alone, Meg and Charlie are your girlfriends and you only know each other through them, so there is no reason why you should be out without them buffering you two."

"Fuck that," Dean cut across, pulling back the curtain to glance out at the bar before letting it drop back into place. "Why do they have to be the reason we met? Two guys can't be friends without dragging their girlfriends along with them?"

"Not with how you've both been looking at each other since sitting down at this booth," the agent replied snappishly. "Not with how you move around each other, when he shifts, you shift like you're tethered together. Not with how the first sodding words out of your mouth to me were that you loved James Collins, not Castiel Krushnic, James. Those are mistakes that you can't make when there are cameras pointed at you. I've already dealt with one blackmailing art student who had too much free time on his hands; I don't particularly want to do it again."

"What is he talking about, Cas?" Dean asked, causing the actor to shut his eyes and curse himself for not telling Dean about the pictures that had been taken of them their first night together. Not because he had been hiding it from the other man, but because it was gone and past and taken care of, the paparazzi that were following him now were the ones that mattered.

"We'll talk about it later, Dean," Castiel promised, trying to make his voice sound less defeated than he felt because it really was better if everyone was on the same page; Crowley, Dean, everyone. He really needed to call his mom.

"Second rule, no touching or kissing or anything that I can't pass of as friendly to the press. Pretty much if it makes you think about having sex, then don't do it. You are allowed to have a bromance that Affleck and Damon are jealous of, but if I hear whispers that it's something else, we shut it down and you both go back to hiding and sneaking out and using underhanded tactics to distract me." Crowley told them, pointing a finger at each of them in turn before waving a weary hand towards the curtain. "Now go away, you two are enough to drive a man to drink."

Castiel nodded, hoping that it looked abashed enough to appease his agent before he was pushing at Dean to escape while they still could. He was determined to find the silver lining in all of this and if it meant that their date turned into a double date then so be it; Cas was going to prove to Dean Winchester that when the time came he would pick the bartender over any movie deal that came his way.

Crowley watched them both go, slumping back into the seat and leaning into Balthazar's arm around his shoulders. He turned to give the other man a kiss along his pale, blonde stubbled jawline and made a disappointed grumble when Balthazar leaned back out of his reach.

"He really does not care for me," The Brit complained, frowning at the still softly swaying curtain that was blocking them from the view of the rest of the club. "Charlie's been saying how similar Dean and I are, I was really hoping we would get along."

"Why does it matter?"

"Because if I'm in your life and he is in Castiel's life, then we are going to have to interact. He is going to be in the house and we all get along so well, I don't want to be the one person he hates."

"No one could ever hate you," Crowley consoled, wrapping his leg underneath the director's on the seat so that it was tangled together under the heavy weight of the other man's body, just how he liked. "I don't hate you. You're my favorite underhanded tactic."

"Yea, I caught that," Balthazar replied, rolling his neck towards him and sighing when his blue eyes met Crowley's brown. "Did you catch mine?"

The agent hesitated for a second before nodding and leaning into the other man, startling him with a deep kiss that Crowley usually only indulged in when he was trying to prove a point to one of Balthazar's more determined hangers-on. It was breathless and bruising and made him thankful that his hot temper had driven him to barge into the director's office demanding to see the original copy of Castiel's contract all those months ago. When they pulled apart, he was mentally cursing Charlie and Castiel and Dean and the whole bloody lot of them for making him want this and thankful that he was nothing to anyone that mattered these days, so no one could hurt him with it like they could his client.

"I caught it, love." He murmured, seeing the happy spark of mirth in Balthazar's eyes before he was being hauled back in by his tie for another kiss.

* * *

Dean refused to go back over to the booth for the rest of the night, mostly because if he did he knew Cas would follow him and then Balthazar would probably keep touching his boyfriend in that familiar way that made him want to punch the director right in the face, but then again it was also partially due to it being really busy and him not being able to go back over there to talk to any of them. Cas had hung around the bar for a little while, until it became obvious that some of the other VIP guests could be just as star struck as the rest of society and kept staring and snapping surreptitious photos of the actor on their cell phones. Meg had followed him back to the booth, smiling apologetically over her shoulder as she went and returning periodically with silly little drawings on the bar napkins from Castiel.

It made him feel better that Cas let him give him a ride back to the actor's house in Sea Cliff, Meg and Charlie were with them too, but Dean justified the other man sitting with him in the front because Meg was leaning forward from the back with one of her arms draped idly over the seat and across his boyfriend's chest. In the rearview mirror he could see that her other one was held tightly in both of Charlie's in the red head's lap, but Meg was a much better actress than Hollywood had apparently given her credit for because she just kept glancing over at Dean with a small, knowing smile on her face and chatting about nothing in particular.

Castiel's fingers teased his own on the seat between them, it almost felt normal and it definitely felt better than hiding. Let the media come at them; take pictures, make up rumors, throw around wild accusations and conjecture like they knew anything about the people whose lives they were playing with. They could face it; together like they should've been doing this whole time and Dean could swallow down the burning jealously that he felt whenever he thought of anyone else touching Cas.

He couldn't screw it up this time, he couldn't give another great guy a reason to look for something better someplace else. Cas wasn't Victor, he was more...everything; gentle, funny, kind, caring, giving. And Dean was not going to let that go without trying first, trying to be okay with living in the shadows and being a secret because at least now that Crowley knew things were a little bit better. They weren't going to have to sneak around anymore, pretend like they weren't on the phone with each other, or hide the other's things when they spent the night together. They just had to be careful in public, which Dean was almost used to after having lived with intolerance in Kansas for so long. He could do this, he had to do this.

Dean parked Baby between Cas's Darla and a red Aston Martin, admiring the car that he assumed belonged to either Crowley or Balthazar, probably the director since the vehicle just screamed out that it was sex on four wheels. Alfie had left the bar before them, making sure that it was okay for him to take the town car and quickly explaining that he had a hot date that Charlie had high-fived him over before the younger man had taken off.

When they stepped inside the house to be greeted with the sight of Balthazar red-faced and hurriedly pulling his shirt over his head over the back of the couch, Dean couldn't even say he was surprised. The director had probably picked up some desperate actress or something at the bar and ditched Crowley to show off his shiny, Sea Cliff mansion that he was staying at. The other man shrugged sheepishly at them all, shushing whoever it was underneath him with a soft chuckle and ducking back down where they couldn't see before asking Charlie if she could be a dear and find his trousers for him.

"I can never play videogames on that couch again," the assistant grumbled, tossing Balthazar's designer jeans at his head and wrinkling her nose at her boss. "You are going to get that cleaned and fast, I wanted to show Meg my Sack Person and now I can't."

"I hope that isn't a euphemism for something," Meg said, holding up a hand to Balthazar before the director could speak. "Because otherwise this relationship is going to be much different than I expected it to be, just spare me the suspense and tell me your boobs are real."

"A lady doesn't tell," Charlie retorted, earning a barked laugh from Balthazar as he pulled his jeans on and disappeared behind the couch onto the floor, tossing black articles of clothing onto the couch and humming under his breath. "I enjoy the allure of privacy, unlike those two tossers. C'mon, Meg. We can go watch Buffy or something on my laptop."

"Oh, I finally get the tour and it's going to end in the bedroom?" the other woman teased, waggling her eyebrows at Dean as Charlie rolled her eyes and dragged the other woman out of the room, muttering under her breath. "Lucky me. Talk nerdy to me, pretty lady."

"Those two are ridiculous," Castiel mumbled, sliding a hand around Dean's waist and tugging him towards the stairs. "Speaking of, do you think you might be able to keep the noise level to a minimum tonight? We do have house guests and I would like to not scar them for life the first time they stay over."

"I'm sure this isn't Deano's first time staying over, but we will try our best won't we, love?" Balthazar replied, smirking at the person who was still lying on the couch, mostly hidden from Dean's view except for a glimpse of dark hair and the hand that reached out to haul the laughing director back down.

"That's a yes, I hope," the actor sighed beside him, trudging slowly out of the room and up the stairs with Dean's hand held loosely in his own. "We'll know in a little while if Balthazar actually manages it for once."

"So he does that a lot?" Dean asked, gritting his teeth because he last thing he wanted to be talking about was Balthazar and his conquests that he was sure were numerous and probably just as meaningless as his own past ones; he did not need Cas drawing any parallels between him and the other man. "He does know that he is a guest here, right?"

"It's not that big of a deal," Castiel replied, kicking is shoes off inside the door of the bedroom and running a tired hand through his hair. "We can just all escape to the guesthouse if it becomes too unbearable."

Dean caught the actor around the waist as he headed towards the bathroom, pulling Cas tightly back against his chest and earning a huffing chuckle from the other man when he started placing soft kisses on his neck. "Want to see if we can make it unbearable for him for a change?"

"It would be a good way to celebrate you blabbing to Crowley," Castiel mused, putting his hand over the one that Dean was running over his chest.

"I think my lack of a filter actually worked in our favor, for once." Dean replied, shuffling behind Cas as he continued to fight his way towards the bathroom.

"Well, I would like to take a shower; wash the bar smell out of my hair," the actor complained half-heartedly, not even trying to stop Dean when he reached down to palm the other man through the denim of his jeans.

He relished the little gasp that Castiel let out, nails scratching against the back of his hand that he had on his chest before the actor spun around in his arms and crashed their lips together. The actor pushed Dean up against the doorframe of the bathroom, hands planted firmly on his biceps and mouth moving hungrily against his own, using those secret muscles that he kept hidden from the world to pin him against the wall so that he couldn't move.

"You could join me, though," the actor growled, rasping his teeth over the stubble on Dean's jaw. "I think I've figured out the controls, the water does this great pulsing thing now."

"Have you broken in that bathtub yet?" Dean breathed, thinking of the deeply sunken Jacuzzi tub with its jet sprays that was more than big enough for the both of them. "I'll wash your hair for you."

Castiel pulled back, biting his lip before nodding slightly and letting go of Dean's arms. The actor settled his weight against him, leaning in for another kiss that was slower with gently nipping teeth and the sinuous slide of tongues together. It was the least frantic kiss that they had shared since Crowley showing up early and it was exactly how Dean wanted them to kiss forever, like they had all the time in the world to learn every inch of each other over and over again as many times as they wanted.

"Let me go run the water, baby." Dean murmured, earning a disgruntled whine from Castiel before the actor pulled away, walking into the bathroom and jumping up to perch himself on the marbled countertop next to the sink.

The tub proved to be a lot less confusing than the shower, with clearly labeled switches and an automatic heat sensor that let him set the water to something that wouldn't fry their skin off and then ignore it for a bit so he could pull off his boots and socks. When he looked up, Cas was watching him, head tilted and glasses sipping down his nose as his hands held onto the edge of the countertop with a white knuckled grip.

"Now all we need are some bubbles or candles or something," Dean joked, watching as his boyfriend held up a finger at him and turned to rifle around in the medicine cabinet over the sink, coming up with a rattling bottle of bath salts that he shook excitedly at Dean before hopping down and walking quickly over to the edge of the steaming tub. "Just don't eat my face or something, baby."

"Mmmmhmmm," Castiel frowned, leaning down to kiss him before quickly dumping half of the bottle into the water and stirring the top slightly with his fingers. "Your face is just so edible though so I'm promising nothing there."

"Yea, whatever. Arms up, assbutt." Dean scoffed, reaching out to pull the other man's shirt over his head before getting rid of his own.

He wrangled the other man until Cas was standing between his knees, smirking at his boyfriend's distraction while Cas ran his hands softly over Dean's chest and arms, pausing on his collarbones and letting out a wistful sounding sigh. Dean busied himself with the ridiculously oversized belt buckle that Cas liked to wear so that he could get the other man naked and right where he wanted him. He may not have Roche's money or charm or connections, but he could still take care of his actor in all the ways that counted.

"I feel like you have on too many clothes for bathtime," the actor complained, smirking when Dean was met with the black lacey panties he was wearing and the larger man's mouth fell open. "Also, surprise."

"All of your surprises involve underwear," Dean moaned out, licking his lips and resisting the urge to wrap them around the erection that was making the thin material tent in front of him. "You're either going to have to stop or let me pick out some because these would look so much better in blue."

"I can just give you my credit card and set you loose on the internet," Castiel offered, sliding the lace down his hips and, Dean was pretty sure, dragging it over his hardened cock slowly, and purposefully all in an attempt to make him loose his mind. "Now will you take your damn pants off already and wash my hair."

"Oh this is serious business," Dean joked, standing up quickly and practically ripping his jeans and boxers off before stepping into the tub and holding out his hand for the other man.

"So serious," Castiel replied, waiting for Dean to sit down before settling into the warm water in front of him and leaning back contentedly against his chest. "I expect you to lather, rinse, _and_ repeat."

Dean hummed in acknowledgement, but really he wasn't concerned about the thoroughness of washing Cas's hair, he was going to do it, but there was just so much pale muscled skin stretched out in front of him and it felt like sacrilege to not run his hands over the planes of Castiel's chest, dipping them under the water to reach his abdomen and hipbones. The actor shifted in front of him, reaching out for a loofa and bottle of body wash that Dean had placed on the edge of the tub while waiting for it to fill. He lathered up the puff ball and handed it back to Dean, looking pointedly through his foggy glasses that the bartender promptly snatched off his face before cupping his jaw and kissing him.

He moved the other man, guiding his hips until Cas was sitting in his lap, his cock was firmly nestled in to the cleft of the other man's ass and the actor was arching back against the sensation, loofa drooping forgotten in his hand. Dean took it anyway, pressing his forehead into Castiel's back and shutting his eyes for a second so that he could focus on not coming from just the feeling of almost being inside the actor. He hadn't felt like this since high school, since Victor, so desperately in love that every little move Cas made, every little sound that unwillingly slipped passed his lips made him hard and on the verge of exploding from arousal.

Dean started washing Castiel's back and shoulders, pressing hard into the muscle and biting his lip so that he wouldn't moan from the little rolls of his hips that the actor was doing against his cock. In front of him, Cas was whimpering, gasping and muttering endearments under his breath so Dean knew that he was just as turned on as he was. He ran his soapy hand around to Castiel's chest, discarding the loofa in favor of rolling the actor's perfect, dark nipples in his fingers so that could hear the breathy, desperate moans of the man in his lap.

"Fuck, my hair is not going to get washed." Castiel groaned out, spreading his legs wider and planting his hands on Dean's thighs. The water sloshed around as the actor ground down purposefully on his dick, causing Dean to moan lewdly when he felt the engorged head of his cock catch on the rim of Castiel's entrance.

"Oh Christ, baby." Dean muttered, dipping his hand back down to wrap it around Castiel's throbbing length. "Want to fuck you so bad, want you to ride my cock."

"Do it," the actor moaned, thrusting into Dean's fist under the water, griping the muscled legs of the other man hard enough to leave bruises. They were always marking each other, claiming territory in bite marks and dark purple fingerprints, wearing each other's clothing wasn't even necessary. "Don't need prep just do it."

Dean started to protest, not wanting to hurt Cas ever because he was perfect and beautiful and didn't deserve anything but the best from everyone, but lust was fueling his mind. Clouding his judgment and his hand found the base of his cock before he knew what he was doing, pressing into Cas hard enough that the other man gasped loudly in pain.

The regret was instantaneous, Cas may have been telling him it didn't matter, but Dean knew it did. Hell, half of the reason he had gotten the shit beaten out of him by Alastair was because he was not into pain-play. Biting and a spontaneous slap on the ass were one thing, but bleeding and tearing and medical visits were a whole different thing entirely.

"Fuck, Cas. Shit." Dean cursed, throwing his hands out to the sides before reason caught up with him and he gingerly pushed the actor away from him; craning his neck so that he could see Cas biting his lip with a pained expression on his face. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so fucking sorry, that was stupid so stupid. Damnit."

"It's okay," Castiel said weakly, shaking his head and wiping away the few tears that had slipped out. He looked at Dean, smiling apologetically. "I just...I thought I could handle it."

"Well, you're not a porn star, Cas. And you're not used to bottoming, I should've thought. I'm sorry, baby. It's my fault."

"No," the actor said, moving around to face him. He stayed in Dean's lap which was fine because he wasn't hard anymore, but he was still scared of hurting Cas so he kept his hands on the edge of the tub instead. "You're great, you're perfect. Don't let that ruin this, this is nice. You're here with me, we don't have to hide anymore."

"We're still hiding, Cas." Dean said despondently, he ruined everything he touched. It was just a matter of time before he ruined this too. "Crowley just isn't the big bad anymore, he never was."

"Stop, Dean." Cas ordered, flailing around over the side of the tub for the towel rack that was nearby, draped with the soft fluffy towels that the actor was shit at folding. "Get out of the tub, c'mon. We're going to talk about this, then we're going to have sex, and then we're going to bed and we will both be here in the morning, together."

"What about your hair?" the bartender asked, feeling completely miserable in comparison to how he had felt only moments ago. "Who is going to wash your hair?"

"You will in the morning," the actor replied, wrapping one of the towels around his waist and tugging at Dean until he reluctantly stood up too, pulling the plug in the tub so that the water that wasn't even cold yet could drain. He saw it as a metaphor for all of his relationships, how they all turned so bad so quickly. He was lucky it had worked with Cas for as long as it had. "Dean, look at me."

Dean raised his eyes until he locked onto the iridescent blue of the other man's, the eyes that had dragged him in and promised him that they would stay until nothing else mattered anymore.

"I love you, Dean." Castiel said seriously, grabbing his chin and placing a determined kiss on Dean's mouth. "Do you love me?"

"I do." Dean confirmed, hoping that this meant that he wouldn't lose Cas to Balthazar or anyone else who would never love him as much as Dean did. "So much. I'm really sorry."

"People have bad sex, babe. There are probably couples having bad sex right now, think of how lucky we are that we aren't them. Now, you are going to go and lay down in that bed and I am going to show why we will never be one of those couples, okay?"

"But—" Dean began, receiving an arched eyebrow in return from the other man that silenced him.

Castiel kissed him hard, grabbing his face and pushing his tongue past Dean's lips without preamble until he was exploring every corner of the bartender's mouth like it was the last uncharted corners of the universe. Dean melted into his chest, gasping when the actor pulled away and then jumping when Cas smacked his towel covered rear firmly and pushed him towards the bed.

"I hope you realize how loud unbearable actually is, Dean."

"I have a pretty good idea," the bartender replied, forgiving himself for almost messing everything up again, because not everything could be his fault all of the time. Sometimes it was no one's, Cas was slowly helping him realize that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be dirty, delicious bath time smut, but...it became something else. I think it works, sex can be weird and awkward and uncomfortable, it helps to have a sense of humor about it sometimes. Anyway! The boys are out to Crowley, yay! Thanks all for the reads and comments and general loveliness.


	13. Chapter 13

A lot of people thought that Alfie was a virgin. Like a lot of people, just fucking assumed that about him because of how he looked and because he was polite. Especially when they found out he was from the South it was like every damn Brokeback, repressed closeted cowboy stereotype came crashing down on him and the way he said ya'll.

But he wasn't repressed and it had been years since he had been a virgin not that it mattered in the slightest to him when he had been one and he kind of liked that Chris just hadn't assumed anything about him. The attractive, older man who had bought him a drink seemed genuinely interested in Alfie and his past and what had brought him to California. They had been on three dates.

The first was at that diner that Charlie had cornered him about going to, because he stole her car without telling her even though he did replace the gas that he used driving all the way out to meet the other man. They had talked the whole night, just getting to know each other and what they did for a living, not that Alfie could actually say much; non-disclosure agreements and shit that Crowley had made him sign held him back from telling Chris much more than he worked as a PA, which he kind of did. He ran a lot of errands for Cas just like Charlie did for Balthazar, only his job description involved a lot more driving.

The second was sort of on accident because he ran into Chris while he was out at the grocery store picking up something that he could try to pass off as edible for Crowley and Balthazar's delicate foreign palettes. It turned out that the teacher was staying at a condo nearby while he was acting as a visiting instructor at the San Francisco Art Institute, having switched offices and homes with another photography professor during the semester which was soon ending. They had gone out to lunch and Chris had apologized for not having called sooner to set up a proper date, though it had only been a couple of days since they had met at the bar.

Chris's borrowed condo had been within walking distance of the cafe where they had detoured from their shopping trip to go and Alfie figured it was only the polite thing to walk the other man home, make sure that he got there okay. Getting invited in honestly hadn't been part of the plan, but Alfie had just followed Chris's lead when the older man pulled him into the house and pressed him against the wall in the front hallway to place a hesitant, lingering kiss on the driver that had left him feeling pleasantly breathless and boneless.

It was one thing to be experienced with sex, which Alfie was so that wasn't the problem. But it was entirely different thing to be experienced with being in a relationship, which he wasn't since his every encounter with Jacob Whitetree had been rushed and fumbled and intoxicated at least on the part of the other boy. He wasn't used to someone being nice to him or even genuinely wanting him for something more than what he could do for them on a physical level.

So it had been surprising to him when Chris had stopped after that first kiss, blushing like a schoolboy despite the graying hair at his temples and murmuring an apology against Alfie's lips before he reluctantly pulled away to get them both glasses of iced tea. The younger man had managed to compose himself long enough to spend another hour in the teacher's company without wantonly throwing himself at the lanky, soft-spoken older man even though really it was all he had wanted to do since the first time he had seen Chris throw his head back and laugh, like full body laugh at one of his corny jokes.

Their third date had actually been slightly more planned; Alfie just needed the car because Chris didn't have one and riding around on the BART to and from their movie and dinner didn't exactly seem like the most romantic option in the world. He bought flowers, taking a cue from Cas who had also lent him the light sports jacket that he was wearing over a dark blue V-neck that Balthazar said brought out his eyes with casual jeans that he hoped made it look like he wasn't trying too hard. The director hadn't asked what he needed the fashion advice for, but Balthazar was usually just giving it out to anyone he thought needed it so Alfie asking didn't even register as a blip for him.

Chris had been highly appreciative of the shirt, to the point where it became a distraction during dinner and they decided to skip going out to the movies altogether in favor of going back to Chris's condo and the very strange assortment of wrestling DVDs and romantic comedies that the house's real owner seemed fond of. Needless to say they didn't make it through Rage in the Cage before Alfie made the executive decision that Chris's own black button down shirt would look much better on the floor. Which it did, so there.

* * *

Castiel woke up in the morning feeling much like he had the first night that he and Dean had spent together, contentedly fuzzy and almost uncomfortably warm from the heat of another person's body under the covers with him. The fact that it was Dean's body made him less inclined to toss the blankets off of himself agitatedly like he normally would if he were in bed by himself and more inclined to just stick his foot out of the bottom of the covers and spoon up closer behind the other man in an attempt to wrap himself as much around Dean as possible.

He felt like they had more than made good on their plan the night before to outdo Crowley and Balthazar's decibel record in the bedroom. After their initial snafu in the bathtub, it had taken some convincing before Dean had let Cas do more than kiss him and even then the other man had been more gentle than usual, touching him like he was something fragile and breakable instead of a grown man who he regularly left bruises and bite marks on when they made love.

Castiel had gotten impatient with the whole thing and finally just pinned Dean down to the bed, kissing him hard enough that their teeth clicked together and he tasted blood before the other man finally took the hint and wrestled his arms out of the actor's grip, flipping their positions so that he could take Cas exactly how he had wanted to be taken before the other man had freaked out and gotten all lost in his head.

Dean had held him afterwards, told him he loved him and that he was beautiful over and over; the sentiments punctuated with soft kisses pressed into his hair and against his temples. That's when Cas wanted the bartender to be tender with him after he wanted him to be rough and not a second before. It helped that Dean was the same way, but that didn't stop the actor from muttering endearments and encouragement throughout their lovemaking just because he couldn't stop the filter that was between his mouth and his heart from going offline anytime Dean made him see stars and wish he had a normal job.

Cas didn't know how this was going to work once they were done filming the movie and he went back to Los Angeles. He had thought more than once about asking Dean to move in with him, to pack up his life and come live in his too big, too empty house that needed the personal touches of another person to finally make it feel like a home for the first time in five years. But it sounded crazy even to him, not that all of this wasn't already crazy to begin with. How fast he had fallen, how hard. And how even with the knowledge that everything that was fucked up about all of this was because of him and his stupid career, he still wasn't ready to give it up for Dean like he should be.

That was what scared him, he should not be hesitating, not when he had someone so gorgeous and amazing and understanding who was willing to put up with the bullshit rules that he had to live by just to be with him. Maybe that was why he hadn't called his mom yet, because he knew that she was going to tear him a new one when she heard the wistful way that he knew he talked about Dean to other people. She was going to know that he was in love and she was going to tell him how much of an idiot be already knew that he was being by keeping Dean hidden away from the rest of the world when he should be showing him off and being proud of him.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered into Dean's back, pressing his forehead softly against the smooth, freckled skin of the man in front of him. "I'm sorry I dragged you into all of this."

The actor slid an arm under Dean's shoulders, wrapping it around the other man's chest who just mumbled and smiled sleepily before snuggling back into Castiel's arms with a soft, contended sounding sigh. Cas felt like crying, like screaming and cursing and calling himself every useless name that he deserved to be called for treating Dean so much worse than he deserved to be treated. But he didn't want to wake the other man up so he pressed a kiss between Dean's shoulder blades and stealthily climbed out of the bed so that he could go and try to find some breakfast and maybe make the small amends that he could to keep the bartender from realizing how little he was actually settling for by being with him.

Cas struggled into the first clothes that he grabbed out of the dresser before heading down to the kitchen where Charlie and Meg were already up and bustling around a very hungover looking Crowley who was just blearily nursing a coffee at the breakfast nook. The two girls were fluidly moving around the small space like they had been living together for ages and had done more than just spend the night fully clothed in each other's beds once or twice. Balthazar's assistant had told him that she was trying very hard to not get too attached to Meg, Cas wasn't sure how well that was working out for her. Especially not if the way the two girls kept sharing secret smirks with each other when they thought no one was looking was any indication.

"We're making fruit salad," Meg announced when Castiel made a fake grab for Crowley's coffee that just caused the other man to grumble murderously at him and huddle farther in to himself. "And there's more coffee, you don't have to torture poor Fergie."

"I told you not to call me that," the agent grumbled, running a tired hand over his face and up into his hair. "I used to be very respected. My name instilled fear into the hearts of assistants everywhere and now I have been reduced to one quarter of a very strange rock quartet by two girls who's idea of a funny joke is to fill a fruit bowl full of condoms."

"Yea," Castiel said, squinting at the bowl on the counter that used to be full of bananas and apples and mangos, but was now just full to the brim and overflowing with plastic packaged squares of condoms. "What exactly is going on there?'

"We figured since there we were going to use all the fruit making breakfast then the least we could do was replace with something you guys might actually use, since apparently every single man in this house is hell bent on coming down with scurvy," Charlie replied, clattering around in the cabinets above her head until she came up with two small bowls that she loaded up with the aforementioned fruit salad.

"So condoms!" Meg exclaimed, loading up a tray with two mugs of coffee and the bowls of fruit and an artfully sprinkled handful of condoms before she shoved the whole thing in Cas's direction. "Have sex and be merry and maybe, if the thought crosses your mind buy me and Charlie some earplugs or something. Y'know, something thoughtful."

"Hmmm, I'll buy you some earplugs," Castiel said, tossing the condoms back towards the bowl on the counter, wincing when one bounced off of his agent's forehead. "But I don't need these."

"You will need them eventually, Cas." Meg corrected, picking out a grape from the salad and tossing it up in the air to catch in her mouth. She held out her hands in a 'ta-da' gesture, waving her fingers expressively at the trio of housemates who were just watching her with expressions of confused politeness on their faces. "Philistines, that was impressive and you know it. Not as impressive as Dean and Cas's never ending supply of prophylactics, but whatever it's still pretty good."

"It's not that," the actor mumbled, carefully picking up the tray of food that the two girls had put together for him. "I mean I guess it is. Neverending, if um...we never use them, bye."

"Whoa! No, wait, no!" Crowley shouted, reaching out to stop his client before he could dart away up the stairs, which Castiel was finding difficult to do since darting while carrying a tray of hot, scalding liquid was not something he had a lot of practice with. "Please tell me that my hearing is playing tricks on me in my old age. Please tell me you did not just say what I think you just said."

"I didn't say what you think I just said," Castiel said meekly, edging farther out of the kitchen even as Crowley clambered to his feet and started following him.

"You are a terrible liar," Crowley admonished. "Why are you lying to me?"

"Because you asked me to?" he replied, ducking his head and glaring down at the highly offensive kiwis in his bowls of fruit. Kiwis were a fucked up fruit.

"No," the Scotsman corrected. "I asked you if you what you were doing with Dean was a fuck up. If you thought it was a fuck up and you said you did, another lie. That's was months ago and last night I asked you if you were being careful, because if you were then I was willing to let this whole idiotic charade you have forced me to accept continue. And you said you were. You looked right at me and told me that you and Dean were being safe. You need to stop lying to me."

"Why?" Castiel snapped, he was so tired of having to explain his actions to everyone all of the time. He was so tired of living under a magnifying glass.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me the truth, Castiel." Crowley sighed, reaching into the pocket of his pajama pants to pull out his cell phone. "You wanted to be an actor, a star and when I met you I explained everything that was going to mean for you. You knew what you were getting yourself into with all of this, I have never sugarcoated how hard this was going to be, and I have never ever lied to you. "

"Balthazar," Castiel pointed out, jutting his chin towards the stairs. "You didn't tell me about Balthazar."

"I didn't tell you because you didn't ask," the other man said irritably, putting his phone up to his ear. "There is a difference. You're going to the doctor."

"I don't need to go to a doctor," the actor whined. "Dean doesn't have anything and neither do I."

"How do you know that? Because he told you, because he loves you?" Crowley asked impatiently. "There are other things that can happen when you have unprotected sex, Castiel. And just because he told you that he is clean does not mean that he is being honest with you either. Monogamy does not equal fidelity."

He was starting to feel really dumb now, not because he didn't trust Dean because he did, but because how did Crowley know that those guys he had sent over for him had been clean themselves? True the last one had been months before he met Dean and he had always used protection with them, but things could still happen. Diseases could still be spread in other ways than just sex and it would absolutely kill him if he had given Dean something because he was too stupid and impatient to put a fucking condom on. Castiel was way too old to be using some lame excuse like sex didn't feel as good with a condom on, because it fucking did and how could he have put Dean at risk like that? He was selfish, selfish, selfish which shouldn't come as a surprise anymore.

"Make Dean an appointment too," Castiel blurted causing Crowley to shoot him a sharp, disapproving look. "Just fucking do it, Crow."

"Dean doesn't have health insurance," Meg offered meekly from the barstool next to Charlie that she had settled herself on.

Both men looked over at the brunette woman who just shrugged and shoved a particularly large piece of cantaloupe in her mouth. "He's a part-time bartender, dude lives off of tips. And he has like the immune system of a horse, I don't think I've ever seen Dean sick."

"I'll schedule him an appointment," Crowley told Castiel, silencing Meg with a slashing motion of his hand. "On a different day than yours and until then wear a sodding condom! I feel that I shouldn't even have to say that to you. I'm not your bloody mother."

"Well, I didn't really go discussing my sexual encounters with my mother when I was still living in Boston," Castiel said sheepishly as he recalled his father's painfully embarrassing for the both of them attempts at giving him the homosexual version of the birds and the bees talk.

"And that's why you get to go to the doctor now," his agent scolded, shoving a handful of condom's into the inside crease of Castiel's elbow and forearm causing the tray that the actor was holding to tilt precariously.

"I hate the doctor," Castiel grumbled, managing to right the tray before coffee sloshed everywhere.

"Well maybe this will teach you not to lie to me anymore," Crowley stated smugly, turning away from him to talk to the receptionist of the very prudent physician his client had always seen for more...delicate matters.

* * *

Dean was dreaming about white picket fences and bonfires on the beach when he felt Castiel slip back into bed behind him. He had woken up slightly when the other man had first gotten up, but had watched through crackled eyelids as the actor dressed stealthily and slid on his glasses before sneaking out of the bedroom yawning sleepily to himself. The empty side of the bed that still smelled like Cas and held traces of his warmth had just been too tempting and Dean had almost immediately rolled over into it as soon as the other man left the room, drifting back off to sleep with the smell of baseball fields and summer days influencing his dreams.

"You're wearing a lot of clothes," Dean mumbled, settling back into the inviting space of Castiel's empty arms when the other man slid one under his shoulders and wrapped the remaining around his waist to pull him close and bury his face into Dean's hair with a disgruntled 'harumph'. "More clothes than are allowed in the bed."

"I didn't know we had rules about how many clothes were allowed in bed," Castiel murmured, sighing a soft puff of air against his neck that made Dean shiver.

"Well we do, so fix it." Dean demanded fighting to keep the smile out of his voice and off of his face when he felt the other man lever himself up to look down on him before he felt a lot of tossing and turning and heard a fair bit of awkward grunting coming from behind him.

"Better?" Castiel asked lowly and Dean felt the cool skin of the other man spooning up behind him against his back and down along his legs where the actor's curled to fit against his own.

"Much," he replied, opening his eyes enough so that he could glance over his shoulder at Castiel who's blue eyes were studying his face, eyebrows creased in concern and mouth turned down in a frown. "What's wrong, Cas?"

"Nothing," the actor replied, shaking his head quickly and smiling sadly. "Just worrying over nothing, something Crowley said."

"Something about the movie?" Dean asked, trying to turn over so that he could better face the other man, but being stopped the strong arms that enveloped him.

"No," Castiel said with a sigh, burying his face in Dean's neck and kissing his pulse point there softly, reverently. "I don't really want to talk about it. He'll probably say something to you later anyway, I just don't want to ruin our morning."

"Yea," Dean said lightheartedly, tracing one of his fingers over the back of the hand that Castiel had pressed against his chest before lacing his fingers through the other man's. "Our first day out of the closet, what ever will we do?"

"When is your family getting into town?"

"Sam should be here sometime tomorrow, last I talked to him he had some loose ends to tie up with getting a different roommate for next year or something," Dean explained. "And um...Bobby's flight comes in Tuesday in the afternoon. Sam and I are going to go pick him up, find a good hotel close by my place, maybe grab dinner."

"They could stay here," the actor offered softly, rubbing his scratchy, sandpaper stubble across Dean's shoulder blades in an absentminded way. "I mean, if you want. I do have three empty bedrooms just gathering dust and this way Sam doesn't end up sleeping on your couch or something."

Dean snorted, half in disbelief that Castiel was offering his home to Dean's family and half because the image of his huge, mountain troll of a brother trying to squeeze himself onto his couch had flittered through his mind. "Why don't I just move in with you while we're at it, Cas?"

He felt the other man stiffen behind him, the actor's soft strokes of his thumb against his hip faltering and stopping after Dean's little Fruedian slip that must not have come out sounding as much like a joke as it had in his head. Dean knew that what they were already doing together was fucking insane, how had they even ended up here? A one night stand to 'I love you' to let me meet your whole maladjusted family over the course of just a couple of months. They hadn't even gone out on a real date yet and they weren't going to get to probably, everything that they were doing was backwards and out of order and not at all like Dean had pictured the relationship of his dreams going.

And now here he was making some desperate, needy grab to keep Castiel here when he knew that the other man couldn't stay forever, this was just the reprieve before they had to go back to their real lives and the actor left him to go back to glamorous Hollywood while Dean went back to slinging cocktails and working on his friends' cars because it was the closest he would ever get to having his own auto shop. He had already resigned himself to this being a summer romance, the best and most meaningful one of his life to be sure, but Cas wouldn't want to drag him and Meg and Charlie around forever all just to keep him close and keep up the lie that the two girls would surely get tired of living themselves.

He loved Cas, but after almost hurting him the night before all of the excitement and fearlessness that he had felt after standing up to Crowley had melted away under the very real possibility of him not being good enough for Castiel. Someone was going to catch them together or figure out that they were so much more than just friends and then the actor's career would be over, leaving him with nothing to show for all of his work and his talent but Dean and the burbling, festering resentment that would eventually make them hate each other. It would be better for all of them if that never even became close to being a possibility.

"I-I mean, joking." Dean sputtered, ducking his head to kiss the other man's arm and forcing a laugh out of his constricted lungs. "I'm joking, Cas. Plus you don't want Bobby here, grouching up the place. And Sam will just nerd all over everything with Meg and Charlie, I'm talking Ghostbusters level ectoplasm grossness there, sweetheart. We'll get a hotel room for them, it's not a problem."

"I want to meet them," Castiel said firmly. "And you're here all the time anyway or at least you can be now that Crow knows about us and really there is more than enough room here for them. There is no reason for you to spend money on a hotel room, they're staying here."

"I don't think Bobby's heart can handle all the sex noises, Cas." Dean objected, turning his head to meet the other man's stony gaze. He sighed and struggled for a bit to break out of Castiel's grip again before giving up and melting into the soft kisses that the other man was placing on his neck and ears. "You'll have to tell Balthazar to be fucking quiet. Or he can go get a hotel room himself if he can't keep his sexcapades down to a reasonable noise level."

"I'll talk to them," Cas mumbled against his skin, squeezing Dean's hip firmly. "And if the family bonding gets to be too much for you, we can escape to your apartment. It can be like our little contingency plan."

"Home away from home," the bartender added, shutting his eyes and smiling softly; remembering what his apartment already looked like from just the few times that Cas had stayed over.

Dishes in the sink from two people eating instead of just one, Cas's clothes mixed in with his own laundry, the message from James Collins signed onto his DVD boxset of _Dr. Sexy_ season two that he could never show anyone because it was fairly obscene. The little signs that he wasn't alone anymore.

"Have you bought Sam a birthday present yet?" Castiel asked behind him, running his hand down lower over Dean's waist, along the jut of his pubis before veering back to skim down the bartender's thigh.

"No and how about a new rule," Dean breathed agitatedly, biting back the frustrated moan that had just about slipped out over the other man's teasing. "No more talking about my brother or Bobby when we're naked. This is ruining naked time."

"You're the one that made me take off my clothes," the actor growled into his ear, catching the lobe between his teeth briefly before moving to the sensitive skin on Dean's jaw. "We'll go get a present today, the girls and us. Okay?"

"Rules, Cas." Dean groaned, arching back until he could feel his actor's arousal pressing into the small of his back. "Are you going to talk or have sex with me?"

"I can do both," the other man teased, running the hand that had been on Dean's thigh over the curve of his rear with a soft, almost timid caress. "I have a lot of talents."

"Well you can't fucking cook," Dean joked back, frowning and looking over his shoulder when he felt Castiel move away from him only to see the actor fumbling in the nightstand where they kept the lube that Dean had used almost all of while prepping Cas the night before, after the bathtub the last thing he had wanted to do was hurt the other man. Maybe going shopping today was a good idea. "So whatever you have to say in bed better be pretty damn impressive."

The actor smiled mischievously at him before diving back in to press himself against Dean's back, catching his mouth with an awkward over the shoulder kiss that was more teeth and tongues than actual lips, but Dean was past the point of caring when he felt Castiel slip a thigh through his own and heard the snap of the lube opening behind him. He hissed a bit when he felt the cool, slickened fingers of the other man probing and rimming around his entrance, but he was much more used to it than Cas was so Dean pressed back eagerly onto the intrusion, biting his lip when he felt the first finger slip past the tight ring of muscle and move inside of him.

"Is everyone awake?" Dean choked out, putting his hand back over Castiel's that had nails scratching softly over his chest and nipples in that way that just drove him completely crazy.

It felt like sensory overload a bit and right now all he wanted to focus on was the way that Cas was slowly stretching him open, kissing his shoulders and how he could hear the other man's ragged, aroused breathing behind him. Dean still couldn't believe that someone so amazing could be affected by him like that, but every stupid little thing that Castiel did pretty much turned Dean into a giant puddle of love-struck goo so maybe it wasn't too far-fetched of him to believe that this could actually work. The details of how were just what was eluding him right now and honestly, the details could go fuck themselves as long as Cas kept touching him like he was precious and calling him gorgeous like he meant it.

"Everyone but Balthazar I think," the other man replied lowly, adding a second finger to the first and twisting his wrist so that Dean was gasping and whining in front of him, making needy, unconscious half-thrusts backwards with his hips onto Castiel's nimble fingers. "Want to give him a wake up call?"

"Why the fuck not." Dean mumbled, reaching backwards with his free hand that had been griping the base of his own cock so that he wouldn't come just from Castiel prepping him to scrabble at the other man's bare hip. "Fucking British asshole with his fucking accent."

"I can do an accent," Castiel whispered into his ear, breathing hot and steamy against his overheated skin that was already becoming slick with sweat. "You vant I do accent, yes?"

Dean moaned, loud enough that if it wasn't already obvious to anyone who might be wondering why they hadn't left the bedroom what they were doing, then it was going to be hella obvious now. "What the fuck kind of accent is that?"

"I call it India-Russian," the actor replied and Dean could hear the smugness in the other man's voice when he whined as the three fingers that had been stretching him open, brushing maddeningly soft over his prostate, disappeared. "I told you I'm talented."

"I stand corrected then," Dean amended, glancing back at the other man who's hand hadn't been replaced with something much harder and thicker and pulsing yet like the bartender had been expecting. Castiel was frowning and fidgeting with something between them before he noticed that Dean was looking at him and he smirked sheepishly.

"It's been a while since I've dealt with one of these," the other man admitted causing Dean to crane his neck enough to see the torn condom wrapper lying near the other man's chest. "Sorry, give me a second."

"This is very sexy, Cas." Dean deadpanned, resolutely ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach when he remembered how Victor had suddenly been abundantly stocked in condoms right before Dean had walked in on him with someone else.

This was not the same thing, just because Cas all of a sudden wanted to wear condoms when they never had before it wasn't the same thing, it didn't mean anything. Did it? He couldn't stop the image of how Cas had looked in the booth at the bar with Balthazar's arm draped around him from floating through his head and the soft kisses that the other man was leaving on his back wasn't helping the sudden urge he had to cry.

"Dean, what's wrong?" Castiel asked, both of the other man's arms appearing around his chest to turn him over onto his back a bit so that the actor could look down on him with concern flaring in his too blue eyes. "What did I do?"

"Nothing," Dean managed to force out. Shaking his head to make the insecurities in his head well and truly go away. "You didn't do anything. You're perfect, sweetheart. I'm just...I love you."

The actor tilted his head at Dean and frowned slightly before planting a firm kiss on the bartender's lips. "I love you too, Dean. Why does this keep happening?"

He shook his head, not wanting to talk about Victor or the one other time that he had let himself start to think about someone in abstract, fairy tale terms like soul mate or forever or happily ever after instead of the more immediate way he thought about the guys he hooked up with, which was with his dick instead of his brain. So he kissed Castiel harder instead, moving the other man's hand down from his chest to cover his waning erection so that the actor would get the hint that this wasn't something that was going to continue to be an issue. The last thing he need was for the other man to go looking for something Dean knew he could give Cas somewhere else. He might not be rich or famous or be able to fly the actor all over the world or whatever, but he was a damn good lay and that's all Dean wanted to focus on right now; feeling better instead of the looming disaster that he knew his life was turning into.

"I just love you so much," Dean muttered against Castiel's lips, grinding his ass back onto the other man's cock with purposeful intent. "Just need you, right now. Need you forever."

The actor whimpered behind him, sighing in a resigned sort of way when he wrapped his hand around Dean's member and started stroking him back to full hardness, running his thumb along the tip and spreading the precome down in a lazily slow gesture with his thumb until he was just rubbing the spot that he always teased with his tongue right under the bartender's frenulum.

Castiel knew something was wrong, despite what Dean may or may not be willing to tell him. He had seen the look on the other man's face when his boyfriend realized that he was putting on a condom and part of him knew that it had to have something to do with that guy that Sam had mentioned. The one that he hadn't talked to Dean about yet, because they just hadn't talked about past relationships at all; obviously something they were going to have to remedy if he was going to keep Dean from freaking out every single time they had sex.

Because he didn't want to remind Dean of someone that had hurt him in the past and he had no intention of being someone who hurt him in the present. He was just going to have to prove to the other man in any way that he could that he was in this for the long haul or as long a haul as Dean wanted them to be in; Cas had no illusions that Dean wouldn't get tired of hiding, but he hoped that by the time it became a big issue, which he knew it would, then he would have figured out a way to come out to the rest of the world, not just his parents and his friends.

He lined himself up to press into Dean, coating his latex wrapped member in more lube now that he wouldn't have the slick that his own precome provided aiding him when he thrust into the other man. It didn't feel any different, having sex with a condom on. The heat and the tightness and all of the things that made making love to Dean intoxicating and addicting were still there. He could still feel the other man clenching around as he started a slow and steady rhythm of moving with his lover, alternating between stroking Dean's cock and grabbing onto his hips in order to keep the other man in place when he gave a particularly hard thrust.

"What happened to the accent, Cas?" Dean asked breathlessly, smirking when he looked back at the actor before he threw his head back against Castiel's shoulder when he received several hard, fast strokes to his engorged member as an answer.

Castiel thought about slipping back into his faux Russian accent that he had modeled after his father's side of the family, Dean had seemed to enjoy it earlier, but something made him stop; decide that maybe the other man needed the reassurance that Cas wasn't just in this for the sex even though it helped that sex with Dean was astronomical and could probably be considered a lethal weapon in some of the more conservative states. Saying 'I love you' could only have as much meaning as Dean wanted it to have and if he was used to hearing it from whatever assholes had treated him badly in the past then maybe Castiel needed to figure out another way to say it, a way that meant more.

He slowed his thrusts, moving his hand that was around Dean's chest up to cup the other man's jaw and tilt his head so that Castiel could speak right into his ear.

"No sooner met but they looked; no sooner looked but they loved; no sooner loved but they sighed; no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy."

He didn't know if Dean knew much Shakespeare, not that he thought the bartender wasn't educated, just not a lot of people knew it when they heard it. And especially hearing it during sex, when most people's minds were in a distinctly different place than they would normally be during a play or a lesson on early British theater, but it was the main area of study that Castiel had focused on in school and the other students had teased him for being a romantic. He knew it was strange dirty talk, but he still wasn't crazy enough to say the line that he had left out this early in a relationship, not even in the middle of mind blowing sex with the person that he was pretty sure was the love of his life.

"Fuck accents," Dean moaned, swallowing hard and licking his lips that had suddenly gotten very dry while Castiel had been murmuring fucking poetry in that low, gravelly voice of his right against his ear. It was so much better than medieval torture techniques and he never wanted the actor to stop. "More, do more of that. You sound so sexy, Cas."

"You like that?" Castiel growled, sounding slightly surprised and all Dean could do was nod and arch his back and try to keep himself from begging the other man to continue while long, slender fingers caressed the tendons in his neck and held his stuttering hips in place as he sought out his release with the actor buried inside of him. "My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee the more I have, for both are infinite."

"Oh jesus," he groaned, biting his lip against the pressure he could feel building in his spine every time that Castiel's cock thrust against his prostate, making him gasp and his toes curls against the sky blue sheets that were on the bed. Dean wrapped his leg around the other man's, willing Cas closer and deeper and harder until no one would be able to tell where one of them stopped and the other began. "Don't fucking stop, sweetheart. God, don't leave me please don't. I love you so much. Please please."

"Never, never Dean." Castiel muttered into his shoulder, pressing his forehead hard against the sweat, tacky skin of the man he loved so much that it physically hurt him that Dean could even question whether or not Cas would stay. He had promised him he would stay and he had no intention of lying to the people that mattered to him anymore. "Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love."

Dean closed his eyes, seeing stars as he moaned out his release; griping Castiel's hip behind him with his nails as the actor continued to groan and thrust deep and shallow inside of him. He was still breathless when he felt Cas coming inside of him, tightening his grip on Dean's neck almost unconsciously for a second before he quickly dropped his hand down to press tightly against the larger man's chest with a breathed apology and a shiver that Dean felt through the tips of his fingers that were tailing along his lover's hip.

"I didn't mean to choke you," Castiel mumbled, propping his chin on Dean's shoulder and kissing at the spots on Dean's neck where his fingers had pressed faint red marks into the tanned flesh.

"It's okay," Dean said, wincing when he looked down at the crescent shaped imprints that his nails had left on the other man's rear, marks that were welling up with blood right under the surface of Castiel's skin. "I got you too, sweetheart. We'll call it even."

"I guess that makes three kinks of yours that I get to exploit now," the actor teased, making a face that Dean didn't see when he pulled the condom off and tied it off to toss it towards the trash can that was next to the night stand.

"Where are you getting three from?" Dean asked, snuggling back into Castiel's arms and the hands that were making soft trails over the red raised scratch marks that the actor had left on his chest. He closed his eyes with a contended sigh and counted four, four kinks so maybe Castiel wasn't counting the glasses like he was since Dean got half hard anytime the other man pushed them up his nose while he was reading something.

"Lingerie," Castiel replied, holding up a finger in front of Dean's face and poking him on the nose. "boop. Accents, boop. And iambic pentameter, boop."

"Whatever that is," Dean said, smiling when the other man wrapped their legs tighter together and pulled the blankets back over them. "Guess I'll just have to work a little harder to figure out what yours are."

"Oooh, remember when you changed the oil in my car? Hunky mechanic, unf."

"Awesome," Dean hummed; reminding himself that Victor had alway hated the greasy mechanic look; yet another reason why Castiel was nothing like his former boyfriend and why he had nothing to worry about. "I'm not even going to have to work at that one. Still washing your hair later?"

"Later," Castiel agreed, smiling against the other man's back and idly wondering how long he could get away with letting that fruit salad sit there before it got gross or people came looking for them. He figured he had plenty of time to worry about that later, later.

And then he could call his mom and dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! Look I did another thing! I'm surprising even myself. Some days I can just spit out 7K words and then others its like pulling teeth to write more than 1K. Obviously, that has been my problem with this fic, but thank you for being so patient and understanding and awesome and I love you. *scampers off to write chapters for other fics while inspired*


	14. Chapter 14

"No, ma," Castiel sighed, grimacing as Meg poked him hard in the ribs again in an effort to get his wallet. "Just...hold on ma, hold on. Here, Meg! Now leave me alone until the cable car gets here."

"You two sure make a cute couple," Dean joked from his other side, smiling warmly at him from as he tilted the aviators he was wearing down just enough so that the actor could see his boyfriend's playful wink. His free arm was wrapped around Charlie's shoulders and he was wearing Cas's Boston Redsox baseball cap in order to shield himself from the bright midday sun that was beating down on them; the bartender glanced around before dropping his voice. "C'mon baby, don't be grumpy. There are like fifty camera phones pointed at you right now."

The actor rolled his eyes before snagging Meg by her belt loops where she was rifling gleefully through the contents of his wallet and pulling her in close next to him. Cas heard several muted clicks and coos of approval from the rest of the crowd that was waiting at the cable car stop in order to head down the the touristy shopping area near Market Street. He dropped a dry kiss on her forehead as she snuggled into his side, playing up the PDA like a pro even as he saw her pull out her phone so that she could read a fairly explicit text from Charlie that she had just gotten. God, how was this his life?

" _Castiel? Sweetie? Are you still there?"_ Amelia Krushnic's voice sounded tinny and echo-y as it came through the earpiece of his cell phone, the familiar tones of his mother's worry causing him to bring the phone quickly back to his ear. " _Honey? I'm just returning your call from earlier. Your father's in with the doctor doing some more CAT scans so I just have a couple of minutes to talk. I swear I feel like I see more about you on TV and the magazine stand at the market than I actually hear your voice. You know it wouldn't kill you to call more often, you don't have to shut yourself away so that the press doesn't hound you."_

"Actually ma," Cas interrupted gently, glancing at Dean out of the corner of his eye as the other man threw his head back to laugh at something that Charlie was saying. "That's part of why I called. You might be seeing a lot more about me in the news now, y'know more than just the movie stuff that I already warned you about. Because...um...I met someone and its sort of a big deal-"

" _Castiel!"_ It was more of a shriek than anything else that came through his phone as the cable car appeared over the rise of the closest hill, bell chiming merrily to announce its arrival. " _Darling, I am so proud of you! I've been telling you for years that you needed to be true to yourself, being out to the media wasn't going to keep you from getting work no matter what tales of Hollywood homophobia Fergus has been filling your head with. Now, I want to know everything; name, age, job, when are you going to bring him to visit so that I get your father prepared-"_

"It's more complicated than that ma," Castiel said gently, smiling widely as Dean ushered Meg and Charlie onto the cable car ahead of him before grabbing onto the nearest pole next to the seats the two girls picked; he followed suit and ignored the pointed way Charlie cleared her throat when he allowed himself to sway into the solid wall of Dean's side as the car started up the next ascent. "You're going to see some stuff in the gossip rags, but I'll call you when I'm in a place where I can talk about it more. Long story short, I think you're really going to like my girlfriend."

" _Girlfriend?"_ his mother asked, sounding confused and disappointed and sad for him all at the same time. His parents had been highly involved with PFLAG back in Boston before his dad's memory had started to go and he knew that his mother did not approve of him having to hide in order to be taken seriously as an actor. " _Castiel honey, I don't understand. If Fergus is making you do something as a publicity stunt for the movie-"_

"He's not," Castiel corrected quickly. "It's not a...it's not that. I'm not in a place where I can explain it right now. Listen, ma. I'll send you picture of hi-her so that you can see what they look like and I promise I will call you when I get home. It should just be a few hours."

" _I don't like this, Castiel,"_ the older woman grumbled in reply. " _Whatever you're doing to try to save your image, I doubt it's worth risking whatever happiness you've found with whoever you've found it with. I'm still not sure I entirely understand what's going on, but you have no reason to be ashamed of who you are and I am sure you're just hurting him by hiding him away. It is a him right, honey? I don't really care what their sex is as long as you're happy, but I'm not going to be referring to my son's partner by the wrong gender pronouns; I'm not an animal."_

Castiel rolled his eyes fondly, after meeting his friend Rachel when he was in high school and confusing the transitioning girl's pronouns exactly once his mother had single handedly started a campaign at his inner-city school to add a gender-neutral locker room for students who didn't feel comfortable in the other changing areas. "You've got the right pronouns, ma. I'm gonna send you a picture and then you'll understand, but I gotta go now. Give my love to pop."

" _Alright honey,"_ his mother replied with a sigh that made his phone buzz with static fuzz for a moment. " _Just...be careful, Castiel. Don't let the glitz and glamour of being famous blind you to what's really important; an Oscar won't stick by you when you're old and grey."_

"I know ma," he replied staring despondently at the inches of metal pole that were separating his and Dean's hands from touching as they swayed with the motion of the cable car; how bad would it be for him to just hold Dean's hand? Would he never work in this town again all because he loved another man? "I love you."

" _I love you too, honey. Oh, wait! Is he handsome? I always pictured you with a Robert Redford type to compliment your Cary Grant…"_

"Goodbye ma!" Castiel said pointedly, catching the smirk that flittered across Dean's face at the exclamation before his boyfriend went back to nodding seriously at whatever Meg was gesticulating about.

He leaned heavily into the pole beside him after hanging up, letting out a grateful sigh when Meg tangled her fingers with his and gave his hand a squeeze. In the seat beside her she had picked up Charlie's hand and Charlie quickly caught Dean's so that in a roundabout way he was holding his boyfriend's hand; it wasn't much but he appreciated what the two girls were trying to do.

"So are we taking a picture?" Meg asked briskly, jutting her chin at the phone that he was still holding loosely down by his side. "Did I hear that right? Ma Collins wants a photo op?"

"Yea," he groaned, raising his phone and fiddling with it for a second until he could turn the camera feature on. "Dean slide in there with the girls and I'll send her one of my new friends along with my main squeeze; two birds y'know?"

Dean let out a dark chuckle before plopping down heavily in Charlie's lap, wiggling his hips on top of the girl who was making dramatic death noises beneath him; Cas could only grin fondly as he watched the other man, wishing he could just lean in and kiss Dean like he could do without anyone talking about it for the next millennia. But it would mean losing everything that he had worked so hard for if he did. Yea, his family would still be there and his friends who weren't just friends with him because of his money or fame, but how could he support himself and Dean if he wasn't acting? How could he help his mom and dad? Living off of love was a grand idea, but realistically it wasn't something he could do with nothing to fall back on except a Master's degree in Theatre.

The actor didn't _think_ that he was blinded by his fame or culture shocked by the ultra-glow that was just part of living in California; he just didn't know how he was going to get himself out of this situation. The situation that had essentially become Dean staying locked in the closet because of him, at least until he was done promoting the movie and it was out and the next awards season had passed, but that was months and months away. The hazy days of summer were stretching out ahead of him and the most pressing issue was just what Dean's family was going to think of him, not that the whole 'secret-boyfriend' thing was going to win him any brownie points with the maybe, hopefully someday future in-laws, but Cas still held out hope that he could impress them with the ol' Krushnic charm and wit that had always served his own father so well.

"Jim-may!" Charlie hollered from beneath Dean, a hand waving frantically around the other man who had leaned back until his face was framed between the two girls that he was now resting most of his weight on. "Take the picture! I can't breathe, god, Dean you're so heavy. I thought you worked out."

Meg let out a snort as Dean leaned down and pressed a sloppy kiss to the redhead's cheek, "Come on, James. You know you want to be in on this Instagram magic too; your mom will love it."

"Who's going to take the picture?" Castiel asked, not missing the little hop of excitement that Dean gave on Charlie's lap at the suggestion or the way his heart flopped over in happiness upon seeing said hop.

"We'll take it selfie-style," Charlie gasped from beneath Dean, motioning with her hand that wasn't trapped beneath a very excitable bartender for him to give her his phone. "Just hurry the fuck up before I suffocate. Meg, I'll hold the camera you do the clicky bit."

"Aye,aye, Captain Hotpants," Meg replied, patting her knees briskly until Castiel sat down gingerly on them and tilted his face closer to Dean's so that they could all squeeze into the frame of the picture.

"Really Meg?" Dean asked incredulously, his voice pitched low enough that Cas was pretty sure no one else around them, including the small group of people that were watching them with wide-eyed fascination; camera phones held at the ready so that they could upload their brush with fame to Youtube or Vine or whatever it was that kids were using these days. "And you were worried about me blowing Cas's cover…"

"Shutup, Winchester," Meg said around her best toothy smile as she got ready to take the picture with the camera reversed so that she could see what she was doing. "No one even questions girls talking to each other like that, now whatever you call Cas in the privacy of your own bedroom…"

"I will never cook you dinner again," Dean warned the brunette, dropping one hand to rub reassuring circles into the small of Castiel's back where no one could see and using the other to pull of his sunglasses that he then hooked lazily into the neckline of his black V neck t-shirt. "You will either have to live off of expired Easter Peeps or starve."

"Alright everyone, on the count of three," Meg replied brightly, smushing her face against Cas's hard enough that his other cheek was forced to rest against Dean's shoulder. "One...Two...Say Cheese!"

"Cheese is not the same as three," Castiel grumbled under his breath, relaxing his jaw after the click of his phone taking the picture was echoed by at least three other cameras surrounding them.

"What, James-darling?" Meg asked smugly, poking his ribs right in all of the ticklish spots that even Dean hadn't found yet before he had a chance to lever himself up off of her lap; the force of the cable car slowing as they approached their destination making it hard to him to get up and away from her before she planted a couple more kisses on his neck and made him let out a rather embarrassing a chuckle-squeak that the crowd watching them seemed to think was adorable.

"He said Market Street is coming up," Dean added, letting his hand linger on Castiel's back for long enough that it just looked like he was helping the other man to his feet before joining the actor by the pole that they had been holding onto before.

Cas typed out a message for his mom to go along with the picture that the quartet had just taken; he made a point to cite the fact that the man sitting next to him, not either of the girls that he and Dean were sitting on was his beau. He set his phone to silent and shoved it deep into the pocket of his favorite jeans that were just fashionably faded enough that Balthazar and Crowley had allowed him out of the house and around the press, with that he had on a casual green t-shit with the Puma logo on it and flip flops that were pretty much molded perfectly to his feet at this point. His agent said it made him look approachable by fans while also giving off the vibe that he was comfortable in his own skin and just trying to have a normal day out with his new girlfriend and her friends. Dean had just rolled his eyes at the whole Project Runway act that Balthazar had made him do and batted away Charlie's hands when she kept trying to turn his pilfered baseball cap around backwards, looking every bit as confident in his own skin as Castiel wasn't.

It wasn't jealousy or even some repressed evolutionarily need to be the Alpha male that had Castiel frowning in frustration as he watched Dean usher the two girls off of the cable car when it finally stopped in between Geary and Market streets. It was the burning desire to grab Dean's hand and hold it in his own so that the world would know that this perfect, gentlemanly, wonderful man was his and that for some reason Dean wanted him back. Acting, fame, whatever; the media would probably either assume it was a huge publicity stunt or that Dean was just after him for his money, either way it would cheapen what they had and were working towards and that was the last thing Castiel wanted.

But he couldn't go around having Meg pretending to be his girlfriend forever for several reasons: firstly, it was laughable. Sometimes it seemed like Meg could hardly stand him or any other man for that matter and he assumed that she was doing him the favor of lying to everyone because Dean was her friend and she obviously liked Charlie, it had nothing to do with him in any way and he wasn't offended by the fact that she seemed to have her own ideas about how all of this would play out. Secondly, he had every intention of asking Dean to go with him back to L.A. once they were done shooting the movie; whatever he had to do to keep the other man close, hire him as his personal mechanic so that the press didn't question his decision or even sell his house there and move to San Francisco, it was going to be worth it. All of that would look pretty weird if he did it while having a serious girlfriend. Thirdly and probably most importantly, he had no idea how to begin trying to convince Dean that he wasn't going to fuck him over or betray him.

This was definitely the most daunting because he had been watching how Dean seemed to shrink in on himself when the subject of loss was brought up, had noticed the recurring theme of Dean begging him to stay when they made love, and frankly had no idea how to bring it up without his partner immediately getting defensive or denying that anything was wrong. They both had their scars from past relationships and Cas knew that he had things that he would be sensitive about if they were brought up, but talking about it wasn't going to reopen any old wounds for him; he felt more than a little helpless by the fact that he wasn't so sure his boyfriend could say the same thing.

Sam had alluded to something bad happening relationship-wise to Dean in the past and ever since he had had a burning desire to ask the other man about it, but Castiel could only imagine that the look on the bartender's face once they started down that road would be very much like a kicked puppy. As desperately as he wanted to say that it was the desire to not cause Dean any more pain that kept him from broaching the subject, it wasn't. But the selfishness that came along with wanting to keep things sunny and perfect between them for as long as humanly possible made him feel so entirely disgusted with himself that it seemed like the lesser of two evils to hold off on having that discussion until Dean had had his visit with his family. No point in ruining everything they had before they ever got a chance to start.

* * *

Dean had no idea that sunglasses could be so fucking expensive. Yea, they like protected your eyes and shit, but really if they weren't prescription then would his brother _really_ notice that Dean had gotten them at Target and not the Nordstrom's that Meg and Charlie and Cas had all dragged him into, claiming a need for new swimsuits that could not possibly be met at any other store. He didn't need a new swimsuit himself, preferring wetsuits for surfing and the perfectly serviceable board shorts that he already had for the rest of the time, but that didn't mean that he was above helping Cas pick out a couple of pairs to try on that he was sure he would get way more enjoyment out of seeing the actor in than the other man would have by swimming in them.

Plus they were probably expensive as fuck Hugo Boss or Armani swim trunks or something, so he had refrained from looking at the price tags as he handed them over to the sales associate that was helping his boyfriend in the dressing room and just wandered off to look for a birthday present for his brother instead. He had to remind himself that it wouldn't do to be seen ogling the obscenely straight James Collins while there were other people around and keeping his hands to himself had been a struggle all morning. Part of it was he wanted to reassure himself that everything was still fine between the two of them, though things _had_ gotten awkward when Dean had finally crawled over Cas so that the could go and take a shower and stepped on the slimy cold used condom that hadn't quite made it to the trash when Cas had taken it off; the massive pile of assorted condoms mocking him from the tray that the actor had brought in him with earlier before he stalked off to get ready.

He knew if Sam was already here he would tell him to tell Cas everything about Victor. Talk about his ex that he had been more than ready to spend the rest of his life with lying to him and cheating on him while smiling to his face and telling him that nothing was wrong and that what they still had was love while it was really just the fear of being alone or maybe some twisted form of Stockholm Syndrome that had made Dean put up with being treated like crap. But deep down he knew that this was all in his head; Cas wouldn't lie to him, Cas loved him. Fuck he had just sent his mom a picture that had the caption "Meet your new son-in-law." underneath it. Not that he thought that Cas had meant for him to see that but it was one of the perks of being a couple of inches taller than you partner and he had unashamedly taken advantage of it. So he figured the whole condom thing and the whole Balthazar just rubbing all over Castiel like he was a cat in heat thing wasn't something that they couldn't wait to discuss later. Dean was very good at stalling and boy was he ever dragging his feet about bringing up all of the darkness in his past for fear of it contaminating everything good he had now.

Dean quirked an incredulous eyebrow at a pair of sunglasses that had wooden frames, imagining the fragile material crumbling to splinters in his brother's massive hand before Sam even had a chance to put them on. The man who was working at the accessories counter was watching him like he was about to smash the glass and snatch as many RayBans as he could carry, but that was nothing new even though he got those kinds of assumptions made about him less and less as he had got older, people were still assholes.

He gave his most winsome smile to the sales associate and stealthily pulled out his phone to see if Cas had thought to send him any sexy changing room pics. The actor hadn't, but he did have three missed calls from a local number that he didn't recognize. Dean was pretty sure he didn't owe anyone money or anything and he was supposed to have the next week off from the bar for Sam's visit. Maybe it was Jo and Jess or even Ash calling about something that was going on at The Neighbourhood because they knew he would probably be around Meg and could relay the message.

Dean gave a shrug and hit the connect button to call the unknown number, starting in an ambling path towards the changing rooms where he had every intention of making out with Cas like a teenager if he could manage to sneak past the obsessively chipper sales-girl helping his boyfriend.

" _Doctor Garrison's office, this is Sophie speaking. How may I help you?"_ A brisk sounding female voice answered just as Dean discovered that the ever-vigilant sales girl was practically guarding the entrance to the dressing rooms.

He nodded in recognition when she gave him an earnest smile and propped himself up on the wall near a couple of chairs that had been strategically placed outside of the waiting room, probably for weary spouses; the thought that he could finally identify with those poor bastards made him smile to himself.

"Hi, um...my name's Dean Winchester," he explained, resisting the urge to fiddle with the snap buttons that were on the pockets of his light blue cargo shorts. "I got a couple of calls from this number earlier and there wasn't a message so I was...uh, just returning the call or whatever."

" _Yes, Mr. Winchester,"_ the woman continued, seemingly unconcerned with how awkward he sounded. Doctors and cops, they always made him nervous. " _We, that is to say I, called you earlier to try to confirm an appointment that was scheduled on your behalf by your assistant for Friday at 10AM."_

"Oooh, lady," Dean replied quickly, waving his hands more to fend off the vision that flashed through his mind of very thorough and painful medical procedures being practiced on him. "You must have the wrong number or something. I'm not important enough to have an assistant and I sure as hell didn't make myself a doctor's appointment."

" _This is Dean Winchester, correct? Date of birth January 24th? Your assistant, a um...Mr. Crowley was the one who called the doctor personally to make the appointments. Didn't follow policy either, just went right over my head with it-"_

"Sorrysorry," Dean quickly apologized, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a frustrated sigh over Crowley thinking that he got to have any say over his life; he wasn't paying the guy to micromanage him like Cas was. "But there's been a mix-up, Crowley is not my assistant and even if he was I don't need to see a doctor; I'm as healthy as a horse."

" _Mr. Winchester,"_ the woman sighed, sounding like she was getting just as much of a headache from all of this as he was. " _I just print the list and call the list and sometimes give little crying kids lollipops. All you're scheduled to see him for is a standard physical like you would do for a health insurance company and then an STD panel, that's it. If you come for it, I promise I'll save you a lollipop."_

"He scheduled me for what?!" Dean snapped, drawing the attention of the sales girl as he spoke. "That fucking bastard-"

" _I take it that you would like to cancel the appointment then?"_ Sophie asked, sounding distinctly unconcerned by how upset he was. Dean got the feeling that this was a disturbingly ordinary reaction for her to hear. " _Or y'know, think on it. Give us a call, leave a message. You can cancel your appointment at any time, but we prefer to have at least twenty fours hours notice. Have a good day Mr. Winchester."_

"No wait!" Dean stared, trying to catch the receptionist who was obviously fed up with his being a rude asshole towards her. God, this wasn't her fault. It was Crowley's, how dare he just call and make appointments for- "Lady, you said appointments, plural. Who else is supposed to see the doctor?"

" _That information is confidential, Mr. Winchester."_ Sophie explained briskly before dropping her voice low enough that Dean had to press a finger into his other ear in order to hear her. " _However, the doctor led me to believe that Mr. Crowley was scheduling an appointment for you and your...partner? A D. Krushnic? We hope to see you on Friday, until then have a good day, sir."_

Dean stared at his phone in disbelief after the call disconnected. Surely, this was all Crowley; Cas wouldn't do this to him. Cas trusted him. They trusted each other, but what if… He couldn't shake the sudden dread that had filled him when he had seen the actor putting on a condom that morning before he and the other man had had sex. It was that icy panic that had accompanied him finding half-full boxes of condoms in Victor's car when he and his ex hadn't even kissed in months. As much as he had hated the other man for cheating on him, Dean had still been grateful that Victor had the common human decency to not want to pass around a STI if he happened to pick one up while he was out fucking strangers. But he and Cas hadn't been careful at first and now with Balthazar here fucking everything that moved...what if?

"Which room?" Dean asked the sales girl, so single-minded in his desire to confront Cas that he only knew that he probably sounded scary as fuck because of the expression that flickered across the other woman's face as she pointed towards the changing room at the end of the short hallway.

He reached the curtain that was the door to Cas's dressing room and took a steadying breath in an effort to try to calm the way his heart was racing in fear. Dean was shaking and every thought that flew through his mind was terrible and probably borderline paranoid, but he had been burned far too many times to just implicitly trust people anymore; even though every single cell in his body was screaming at him that he could trust Cas. Cas was good, Cas wouldn't hurt him or take and advantage of him or _use him._ Beat him up and only not fuck him because he wasn't conscious enough to scream before leaving him for dead in the middle of his living room for his barely legal brother to find. Cas wouldn't, he couldn't.

Dean slipped past the curtain, chest heaving and eyes wild as he took in Castiel looking over his shoulder towards the mirror at his ass that were barely covered by an obscenely tight pair of spandex shorts that had been labeled 'swim briefs'. The actor's face was not happy, but as soon as his blue eyes met Dean's in the mirror they brightened briefly before confusion made his eyebrows crease.

"I know," the actor intoned seriously. "These are terrible. If I'm going to be walking around in women's underwear then they're going to be a hell of a lot more comfortable than these are. I'm pretty partial to those grey ones you picked thou-"

"What kind of doctor's office is open on a Sunday?" Dean asked quickly, cutting across Cas's heartbreakingly commonplace discussion of swimsuits because his chest was too tight to keep pretending that he was okay. Your chest didn't feel like it was caving in when you were okay.

The actor froze where he had reached to start peeling the spandex over his hips, thumbs hooked into the waistband of the material for a tense moment before Castiel dropped his hands defeatedly down to his sides and let out a resigned sigh. Cas took a tentative step closer with an arm outstretched in an effort to grab one of the hands that Dean had balled into fists at his side, but stopped when Dean moved an equidistant amount away from him.

"Cas," Dean starred, his voice threatening to crack under the strain of trying to force air into his lungs. "I just...just answer the question. Please, Cas."

"Okay, okay," the other man said soothingly, putting his hands up where Dean could see them and taking a slow step closer to his clothes that were draped across the seat of a plush armchair that had been squeezed into the changing room. "Listen, Dean, honey. This probably isn't a discussion we should be having right now, it's not the time or the place. Let's go home and-"

"No," Dean replied, shaking his head to clear it of the insistent drumbeat that was his pulse pounding in his ears. "I want to talk about it now. All I asked was a question, Cas. Why can't you answer it? It's a normal fucking question!"

"A discreet doctor," Castiel replied after a long, silent pause during which Dean went through every horrible scenario that could happen in his head at least twice. "Those are the kind of doctor's offices that are open on a Sunday. I'm assuming Dr. Garrison's office called you, but Dean it's no-"

"Don't make excuses," Dean bit out, the burn of unspent energy building in his muscles as he fought to find the right words that would make all of this right again. "I can't hear any more excuses from you."

So Cas didn't trust him or Cas couldn't be trusted, it was all so twisted and warped and wrapped up in the desire he had to just grab the other man and anger bang him until the world knew what they meant to each other. He wanted to hurt someone, he wanted to swim out into the ocean until his muscles seized up and he slipped beneath the waves and this stopped being a problem, he wanted to rip Cas to shreds because the other man was fake and plastic just like everything else in his life. He wanted to run, so he did.

Dean ran until he was far enough away from Nordstrom's and Cas and this whole fucked up situation that he couldn't even talk about with the other man for fear that it would ruin them, far enough away that he could breathe and try to get his bearings back. He suppressed the urge to throw his cellphone as hard at the sidewalk beneath his feet when it started going off in his pocket. Partially because it was fucking childish and yea, running away had been pretty fucking childish too, but Dean also couldn't afford to buy a new phone right now either after splurging on Bobby's plane ticket. He answered the call because it was Meg because if it had been Cas he probably would've just turned his phone off and walked all the way back to his apartment.

" _Where are you?"_ Meg's voice bit out at him, sounding irritated and impatient and like the boss that he desperately needed to tell him way to do right now. " _Because I am looking at one very confused half-naked movie star who had burst into tears in a dressing room of a department store. Charlie and I literally left you two alone for twenty minutes tops and suddenly its like Bruce Willis' death speech in Armageddon up in this joint. What happened?"_

"I think he's cheating on me," Dean stated plainly, ignoring the look of disgust that flittered over the face of a little old lady who was window shopping as he walked past her.

" _That's ridiculous, Dean-"_

"Can you just be on my side please?" Dean asked sharply, pausing to take a deep breath in through his nose and out through his pursued lips before he continued walking towards the bus stop that he could see at the top of the next hill. "Or at least maybe trust that I have a reason to be suspicious?"

" _Okay, Dean,"_ Meg sighed impatiently, Dean could vaguely hear Charlie talking soothingly in the background and it made his gut twist guilty when he thought of Cas being that upset over him. " _Listen, whatever is going on with you two, you know that you're going to be my priority, 'kay? Now as soon as I make sure that Charlie and Cas are on their way back to the house, once I fucking get ahold of Alfie, I will take a taxi to your apartment. That's where you're going to be right?"_

"Well that's what I'm working towards," Dean muttered, huffing up the last few feet of steep San Francisco hill to the bus stop. "Just...make sure he gets home okay? And tell him that I just need some space for a bit. And that I love him. OH! And tell Crowley he's a fucking meddling asshole or an enabler or whatever. And I might just punch that fuckwad Roche in the fucking nose because I swear on all that's holy-"

" _That's enough,"_ the other woman barked at him in that voice she used at the bar when they were really busy and short staffed and she had just had a drink spilled all over her. It was terrifying. " _Go home, calm down, and I will be there as soon as I can be to help you sort this shit out. Until then, call Sam. Got it, Winchester?"_

"Got it boss," Dean replied seriously, the suddenness of everything that he might of fucked up hitting him in the chest like a tangible force that made him stagger even though he was standing still. "Fuck, Meg. What if he is cheating on me?"

" _Well then I'll just have to help you kill him, won't I? Breathe, Dean. Whatever it is you think Cas has done, I'm sure he had his reasons. Unless you caught him balls deep in someone and then-"_

"No," Dean replied, letting out a mirthless chuckle. He felt like he was going to throw up. "Just hurry, Meg."

" _I will, dollface."_ She promised gently, sounding almost like the mother that he could really use right about now. " _If I haven't made it in half an hour, then I died climbing all those stairs to your apartment and you have to put on your big boy pants so you can sort out your own relationship, deal?"_

"Deal." Dean said tiredly before hanging up his phone and turning it off completely, just in case Cas tried to call. He would put Meg in charge of the device once she got to his apartment, because he had every intention of being good and drunk before she got there anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS AND GALS! I survived moving! And everything is unpacked! And I updated this story for the first time since December so be gentle! YAY! God, it's been like two weeks since I've updated anything and updating this fic has me pumped! For those of you that read it IKOFS is the next one to be updated and come see me on tumblr itspronounceddeathsteel, a friend and I are doing a pretty big giveaway/award type thing. THAT IS ALL! ILOVEYOUALLANDIMISSEDWRITING!


	15. Chapter 15

Dean had had his fair share of hangovers in his life.

Most of them were the after-effects of celebrations: Sammy getting his acceptance letter to Stanford, Bobby finally working up the nerve to ask his neighbor Marcy out on a date, Jess or Jo landing a big modeling gig for some magazine that he had never heard of, Ash patenting some new polymer that was going to be used in noise canceling headphones, Meg learning how to balance a checkbook. Dean had always thought it was good to celebrate the little accomplishments because frankly, it was an excuse to drink.

There were only a few occasions when he had purposefully gotten drunk in order to combat being upset about something: three times with Victor (when he found out about the cheating, when he actually walked in on the cheating, and then right after he returned the rather expensive watch he had bought for the other man for their anniversary that they never made it to), once against doctor's orders because he had been having nightmares about someone breaking into his apartment to hurt him after the whole incident with Alistair and he had convinced himself that it would be the only way he could ever sleep again, and now twice with Cas. After their first night together when he had opened himself up to being hurt for the first time in a very long time and now, when he had made the stupid mistake of giving someone a second chance _again_ when after Victor he had promised himself that he wouldn't.

Dean wasn't looking to become an alcoholic by drowning all of his bad feeling in a bottle of bourbon, but he was sure as hell starting feel like that was exactly what could happen if he continued like this.

So when he woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and a glass of water by his bedside table, Dean decided that enough was enough. Cas had to choose between his fake, Hollywood, leading man life by himself or a genuine one with the both of them together. He wasn't holding out much hope for Cas making what Dean thought was the right choice because once was an accident, twice was a coincidence, but three times was a pattern. And they were quickly approaching the third time that the secrets and the lying were an issue in their relationship.

Dean blearily reached for the glass of water, thanking Meg probably for having the foresight to lower the blinds and close the curtains in his bedroom because otherwise his headache would be much much worse. Would've been nice if she hadn't stripped him down to his boxers before putting him into bed, but he figured that she probably wouldn't care much if he was completely naked anyway so he was just grateful that he hadn't sleep-sweated through his clothes that he had been wearing the day before because he was pretty sure they would smell like a distillery.

He downed half of the water before burying his face back into his pillows and letting out a groan of embarrassment over the little bit that he could actually remember talking about last night. He had been coherent while he was on the phone with Sam because he had only just started drinking, that much he could remember. But it was only after Meg showed up breathless at his doorway bearing pie and another bottle of liquor that Dean's memories from the night before started to get fuzzy around the edges.

The door creaked open to his left and Dean didn't even try to cover himself up because it was probably just Meg checking on him and the sooner she knew he was awake the sooner they could start discussing the possibility of a big greasy breakfast. Plus she had seen him in much less that his boxers before and been supremely unimpressed so his dignity could take the hit of her seeing him like this, pitiful and pathetic over some man.

Only Cas wasn't _just_ some man and Dean was pretty sure Meg would repeatedly remind him of that fact until he did exactly what she thought he should do.

He wasn't sure what effect his decision to make Cas choose was going to have on his best friend's burgeoning romance with Charlie, but he was pretty certain that she would understand that his relationship or possible non-relationship had no bearing on what she and Balthazar's assistant did. Which just made him think of Cas alone, with no one but Balthazar to comfort him after their fight the day before and he let out another groan because he was sure the director had just fucking loved that.

In response to the mental imagery that lovely realization brought to mind, Dean let out a frustrated groan and thrashed his legs around on the bed a bit until he was thoroughly tangled in his sheets and blankets. Childish as it was it made him feel a little better, emotionally at least; physically he felt like he was about to hurl so he pried his face out his pillow in order to take in a breath of air that didn't smell like sweat and tears only to see his brother propped up in the doorway of his room with a bottle of Advil in his hand and an amused smirk on his face.

"Man, I am so very happy that I rushed up here last night," Sam deadpanned as he watched Dean began to frantically struggle out of his blanket cocoon. "I mean, you sounded okay on the phone, but Meg kept texting me '911 S.O.S.' over and over. So I may have only slept three hours last night, but I got to see this."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean groused, finally disentangling himself from his sheets so that he could sit on the edge of the bed and hold out a hand for the bottle of pills that the other man was holding. "You should've told me you were coming early when we talked, I would have made a point to be awake to pick you up from the train station."

"It's fine," Sam said with a shrug, patiently shaking out two pills from the bottle before handing them to Dean who quickly swallowed them down; wincing when the sharp movement made his head twinge. "The driver guy Meg sent to get me was pretty cool. He had his boyfriend with him and we talked about BAMPFA and a bunch of art stuff that I didn't really understand, but it kept me awake for the drive so there was that. I also got here in enough time to see you throw just season two of _Doctor Sexy M.D._ into your trash can…"

His younger brother left the sentence hanging like he was wont to do when he wanted Dean to explain something to him, but Dean figured that Sam had already done his own research on James Collins as well as Castiel Krushnic because that was just what the younger boy did now after walking in on Dean almost dead in their apartment all those years ago. Sam hadn't even been able to tell the cops what Alistair had looked like because he had never met him and Dean had been too spaced to remember his twisted date's last name so it just went into the Lawrence police records as a hate crime even though it was wasn't. Ever since the younger man had been hyper-vigilant about who they let get close to their small, battered family; going so far as to do a background check on Bobby's neighbor Marcy before giving their uncle his blessing to ask her out.

"Yea, I was probably pretty smashed by then," Dean admitted, running a hand over the back of his neck and yawning tiredly. "I'll have to thank Alfie for picking you up for me, he's a good kid."

"Seemed like it," Sam agreed with a noncommittal shrug, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest as Dean clambered to his feet with a groan and set about searching for something to wear for the day in his dresser. "So…"

"So are you hungry?" Dean asked, swallowing back the lump that was making his throat tight because he was just not ready to talk about this and he didn't need his brother saying 'I told you so.' "I know Meg knows better than to fuck up anything in my kitchen, but I haven't really been here much lately so there's not really any food here. We can go out, there's a really good food truck nearby that does great breakfast tacos, but it's a bit of a walk. And my car isn't here either, shit. I hope they didn't tow it, I left it downtown-"

"Meg brought your car back," Sam said evenly, his calm tone making it just that much more obvious how broken and frantic and desperate to avoid-deflect-evade any topic that might lead back to Cas that Dean actually was.

Only it seemed like every topic lead back to Cas: they had met at The Neighbourhood so he couldn't talk about work, his kitchen was empty because he had been spending more time at Cas's place than his own, the actor had probably sent Alfie to get Sam because he knew that Dean would be a wreck, and he was a wreck because of Cas. The whole reason Sam was staring at him with his patented I-feel-so-bad-for-you eyes was because of this fucked up fucking mess of a relationship that he had with Cas and Dean wasn't even sure anymore if maybe they would both just be better off without each other.

"Hey it's okay," his brother said soothingly, moving quickly to wrap Dean in a hug because he was crying over one of Cas's stupid shirts in his dresser drawer and he hadn't even realized it until his brother had pulled him back against his chest and tucked him under his chin. For once the fact that Sam was taller was a good thing because he was falling apart and the younger boy had always been better at doing the whole touchy-feely crap than Dean had been. "You'll be okay. We'll sort this out, alright?"

Dean nodded and wiped at his face, relieved to find that he hadn't shed that many tears because if he was going to cry over Cas he would rather do it all at once in a monsoon-esque marathon than in fits and bursts like he was some tragically wilted heroine of a Danielle Steele novel. "Yea, lets get some breakfast or coffee or something, I'll feel better after I eat."

"About that," Sam said sheepishly, pushing his overgrown hair behind his ear as he spoke. "It's like four in the afternoon, I doubt breakfast is being served most places. Meg said she would treat for my birthday if you got up before she had to be at work though."

"That sounds great, Sammy," Dean replied tiredly, waving his brother towards the living room so that the younger boy could entertain himself with the television or something while Dean was getting ready. "Give me fifteen and then we'll go."

* * *

"No," Crowley repeated as he peered over his glasses at his client who was pacing back and forth in front of where he was sitting reading over information about press junkets that were being tentatively put together to promote the movie once it was finished. The fact that Castiel looked rather upset did not alarm him in the slightest.

"You keep saying that, but what exactly are you saying 'no' to?" Cas asked throwing his hands up in frustration as he walked before dropping them back down to his head so that he could pull at his hair. "Jesus, Crow. I didn't even ask you for anything except for advice."

"I am aware," the agent replied his mouth turning down when the other man just waved his hands around impatiently. "But I am working on something, something that concerns you and your career. You remember what that is right? Because you seem to be here and not on set with Balthazar doing your job like you're supposed to be doing."

"How can I work when my life is ruined?!" the actor exclaimed despondently collapsing onto the other end of the couch and pulling one of the throw pillows in his lap.

"Maybe we should've stuck with the soaps," Crowley murmured, striking through a line on the page of contractual jargon that specified exactly what colored tie James Collins had to wear when being interviewed by Melissa Rivers. "You're so very much more dramatic these days."

"And you're being shockingly cavalier for someone who just ruined his best friend's love life," Castiel spat out bitterly, shrinking deeper into the cushion when his agent arched a stern eyebrow at him over the sheaf of papers he was reading. "Don't look at me like that. Dean being mad at me is all your fault and you know it."

The agent's brows drew together before his rapidly deepening frown was revealed when he lowered the papers he was holding down into his lap as he turned more fully to face the actor. "Hmm, I seemed to have forgotten how this is my fault. Do feel free to enlighten me James."

"Well," Castiel began, shifting uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the other man. He hadn't meant to start a whole blame game with his agent, but waiting for Meg to text him that Dean was okay had been killing him all morning and all he had wanted was to find a sympathetic ear in Crowley. Apparently the other man couldn't drop the whole agent persona long enough to just be his friend. "You're the one who told me to keep him a secret and then you can't let me handle my own fucking sex life so he got mad about the doctor's appointment."

"Firstly," Crowley interjected when the actor paused to take a breath so that he could continue on with the tirade that he had been building towards ever since he had sat down at The Neighbourhood and met someone worth giving everything up for. " _You_ told me to schedule him that doctor's appointment and if you didn't act like an undereducated Boston baked bean when it came to your sex life then I wouldn't feel it necessary for either of you to go. You are the one who failed to tell him about it , Castiel. That falls on you. And secondly, I have never once told you to keep Dean a secret."

The actor openly scoffed at that, staring in disbelief at the other man who just settled back against the cushions behind him after his proclamation and reshuffled his papers that he was reading in his lap. "You have got to be kidding me, right?"

Crowley just stoically shook his head, frowning at the page that he had turned back to before picked back up his pen and scribbling something out.

"Nope," Cas declared angrily, reaching out and snatching the papers out of the other man's hands when it looked like the wordless gesture was the only response he was going to get. "You don't get to just say shit like that to make yourself feel better when we both know that its a lie. The doctor thing...I'll take the blame for that, sure. I should have talked to Dean before I just made decisions about his life for him, but you...you started all of this by not letting me have a life at all."

"When have I ever kept you from having a life Castiel?" The agent barked out suddenly, his voice ringing loud in the massive, echoing house that held just the two of them. "If anything, I helped you get the life you have now! The one you wanted!"

"I didn't know it would be like this !" Castiel shouted back, rising to his feet and moving to put some distance between himself and his friend because he didn't want to do something physical like punch the other man. A punch would be something their friendship may never recover from and he had far too few friends to risk losing the closest one he had with rash actions. "You told me that I had to be discreet, that I couldn't risk anyone knowing that I was gay until I was established. But when exactly is that going to be, Crow? Is it going to happen this lifetime?"

"Of course it is," His agent spat passionately, whipping his glasses off of his face so that he could point them at the actor who had started pacing across the room from him. "You're a bleeding brilliant actor, Castiel. I may have had enough sheer dumb luck and desperation to stumble upon you, but even if I hadn't you would've made it eventually."

Cas opened his mouth to interrupt, to ask why then? Why had Crowley told him that Castiel Dmitri Krushnic wasn't enough? What was the point of James Collins if they were one and the same person anyway, minus the small pesky aspect of his real sexuality?

"Would have," The agent continued, raising his voice when he saw that his client was about to speak in an attempt to avoid being cut off. "made it in a small-time community dinner theater because when I found you you were spending more time being an activist than an actor. Which is all noble and so very like you, but look at how much more you've already done with just the bit of name recognition that we've managed to build over the last five years. Hati? Castiel, you've saved lives-"

"Then is it so selfish of me to want one thing for myself?" Castiel asked desperately, his stomach roiling with anxious guilt when he thought of the faces of all of the kids who were now attending the school that he had personally sweated over to help build. It _felt_ selfish. "I'm a good person, don't I deserve to be happy?"

"Of course you do," Crowley conceded softly, deflating slightly when his friend's voice broke on the word 'happy'. "I've never wanted you to have to hide, Castiel. I told you to be discreet and you were; you played the part I forced upon you beautifully. Your selflessness and your desire to help your family kept you from telling me you were unhappy when you were and made you think you had to lie to me when you finally weren't anymore. I will apologize for being blind to what was going on with you, but I was not the one who lied to the person whose entire job is to protect your image and help you."

Castiel swallowed against the thickness in his throat that was threatening to turn into bitter tears because Crowley may just have a point.

The agent watched Cas for a quiet moment, frowning sympathetically at the heavy, stuttering breath that his friend blew out as he pinched the bridge of his nose and finally spoke. "I think I fucked up, Crow."

"Understatement of the century, darling," Crowley muttered sarcastically, ignoring the sharp look of annoyance that the other man leveled at him. "Are you ready for my advice now?"

"Depends on how much you're going to charge me for it," the actor replied, lacking much of the sharpness that Crowley expected from a man who had finally pulled his head out of his ass for the first time in months. Castiel sounded contrite, contemplative...sacred, which was probably exactly what he needed to be feeling in order to come up with something to win back Dean's favor.

"Brilliant," Crowley muttered, sitting forward on the couch so that he could outline his plan in the air for the other man as he spoke. "Now your relationship with Dean and the apologies that I can only hope you have finally realized that you need to make to that saintly asshole, those are not any of my business and I don't want it to be. I am your agent, not his; your well-being is my concern, not his. At least not beyond concern that a friend might have for another friend. My mistake was doing your dirty work for you by scheduling him that doctor's appointment. If he forgives you, you _will_ be better at communicating with him. Understand?"

Castiel nodded emphatically, managing to look sheepish and sufficiently cowed by his agent's words while also gesturing impatiently for Crowley to go on.

"Alright," the agent continued, rubbing his hands together briefly before reaching for his tablet that had been resting on the coffee table in front of where he was sat. Crowley quickly navigated through the screen to find the app for TMZ that he both detested and adored because it represented the banality that was America's public opinion of his client. "I trust that your personal melodrama has kept you from checking the gossip rags, but believe me when I say that this is probably the best thing for us right now."

"What is it?" Cas asked sharply, bounding across the room to take the proffered iPad that he looked at briefly before sinking back down to sit next to Crowley again. "Oh god, it just never fucking ends."

The actor tapped at the screen, his expression growing more and more despondent with each picture that was displayed of how he had trailed miserably behind Meg and Charlie out of Nordstrom's the day before. It was obvious even from the long-distance photos that he had been crying; eyes red-rimmed and still teary while the rest of his face and neck was pale and wan looking. The two girls were turned towards each other, hands and shoulders brushing as each progressive picture showed them heading down the street towards Alfie who had been waiting in the car after Charlie called him.

'Trouble in paradise for _Strangers_ star!' the headline proclaimed, emblazoned in obnoxious red over a picture of Meg and Charlie hugging when the brunette had parted ways with them to retrieve Dean's car. The focus was on Castiel in the background, observing their embrace with what might look like jealousy to anyone else, but was really sadness when he had realized that he may never get a chance to hug Dean again.

It was damning in the almost correct way that those magazines often were and Castiel couldn't help but laugh bitterly that his idiotic plan to use Meg as a beard hadn't even lasted through the rest of principle photography for the movie.

"There are several ways we could spin this," Crowley said calmly, taking the device back and tapping around on it until the screen went dark again; Castiel was just shaking his head in defeat beside him and the agent considered for a moment patting the other man on the back to reassure him. But he was in recovery mode right now and the sentiments would just have to wait until he was off the clock. "The old standby of a jilted lover would earn you sympathy, but I think our best option is to go with the statement that you two simply wanted different things. Which is ironically apt if you think about it.

So with that as our plan of attack you you hardly even need to squint to see the silver lining. First, keep in mind that you have had to stage a break up with her at some point in the future when you and Dean decide to go public. Secondly, its not like anyone's feelings are going to be hurt because none of it was real so you get the luxury of avoiding an ex who is out to destroy you. Congratulations you may have just mastered the art of breaking up in Hollywood."

"Ugh, we're not even in Hollywood," Castiel muttered disgustedly though Crowley could see the corners of the actor's mouth quirking up.

"Regardless," Crowley continued with a dismissive wave of his hand. "An amicable break up between the two of you will help what the press is saying about Meg."

"Which is?" the actor asked cautiously, knowing the answer because from the outside looking in he knew exactly how the public would interpret seeing how Meg and Charlie were with each other in those pictures followed hot on the heels of them breaking up.

"Their saying she cheated on you of course," the agent replied in a bored tone. "Its less harsh because lesbians are generally viewed as more acceptable than two men being in a relationship, but I've already told the girls that they should expect some sort of backlash from this. That's where you come in."

"I think you lost me."

"Your public support of their relationship will go a long way towards easing any negative feelings the public might have towards them, but honestly its about planting that seed of acceptance with your fans," Crowley explained simply. "It might also be a good idea to show support to a few LGBTQ organizations of your choosing, preferably local, but I know you have contacts in Boston from your wilder days so my only request is that it be youth oriented because that panders more to public sympathy. Also I know the bleeding-heart liberal in you enjoys that kind of thing."

"What happened to be being hell-bent on keeping Castiel Krushnic buried in Boston?" the other man asked softly after he had finished cringing from Crowley's ruthless and strategic approach to giving back to the community.

Crowley sighed and rubbed at his temples like he had a headache coming on. "Frankly, Castiel, I'm tired of constantly looking over my shoulder for the reporter who will inevitably get curious enough to dig into your past. Granted there are a few pictures that I would rather not ever surface, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. My concern is getting you and Dean through this as painlessly as possible because if you care about him as much as I think you do then it will be worth all of the overtime I'm going to have to put in."

Castiel didn't know how to respond to that because he had always just assumed that he was more invested in his friendship with his agent than Crowley was. They had never been the sort of people who sat around over coffee and shared their deepest, darkest secrets, but the Scotsman had been all he had when he had come to California and now five years later was unexpectedly his closest friend. Crowley caring was nothing new, but voicing it was and Cas could only reason that his agent's relationship with Balthazar had to be the catalyst for this change of heart.

"I...I am sorry, Castiel," Crowley said haltingly, surprising the actor by apologizing twice in one day; it was certainly more than he had ever heard the other man do so ever before. "Had I...I mean, if I had only known that you were so unhappy…I thought it was just sex. You didn't tell me you were looking for...companionship or a relationship. I would have...bollocks! We could have accommodated it is what I'm trying to say. Built towards you publicly coming out sooner so that we wouldn't be in this predicament. Being in a long-term, monogamous relationship, even if it is with another man, is less abhorrent to most people than frequenting prostitutes"

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty I guess," Cas offered gently, patting the other man awkwardly on the shoulder. "And I'm sorry too, for keeping things from you."

The agent shrugged his acceptance of the apology, allowing the silence to stretch companionably between them for a couple of minutes before he reached to retrieve the papers he had been working on before. Crowley cleared his throat briskly and settled his glasses back on his face and Castiel figured that it was probably a signal that the conversation was over at least for now. Except there was still one thing bothering him.

"But Crow," Castiel began hesitantly, causing the agent to look up over his glasses at him. "What am I going to do to get Dean to forgive me?"

* * *

They met Meg and Charlie at Fiddler's Green, a divey Irish pub that Meg liked to frequent when she actually got to choose where she drank at and Dean wasn't surprised to see the two girls sitting comfortably close to each other in a booth even though it did make his heart twist painfully in his chest.

He tried not to let it show as introductions were made around the table because Sam was here and his brother's birthday may have already passed, but celebrating was better than wallowing in his own self-pity. So he put Cas out of his mind as much possible when he saw Meg's tight-lipped smile and plastered his own grin as widely across his face as he could in order to allay the worry she was more than likely feeling for him.

Dean really should've known better than to expect anything other than an ambush from this particular assortment of dinner mates though, but he still sputtered into his Guinness when Charlie of all people leveled him with a serious look and slid her phone across the table towards him. He had figured she was just going to show him some silly cat video or something else to make him laugh because the other girl was always quick with a joke to cheer someone up or to break the tension in a room.

But when he saw the pictures on _US Weekly_ 's website paired with the lurid, inaccurate taglines of what the press thought had happened between James Collins and Meg...all he could think of was how this was all his fault. If he had just waited to confront Cas...if he could just let go and trust the actor...if he could stop wanting things that he had already known weren't possible with the other man...there were just too many variables that all led back to this being his fault.

"So its over then," Dean bit out angrily, wiping a hand over his face because hot tears were threatening to spill out and he didn't know if he had the strength to stop them once they started.

"Yea," Meg replied with a nonchalant shrug, looping an arm around Charlie's shoulders after the redhead took her phone back from him. "But y'know it wasn't exactly a flawless plan on Clarence's part anyway. Or yours babe."

Charlie jumped and giggled when Meg poke a manicured nail into the other girl's side, schooling her features into one of contrition when Meg pulled an exaggerated frown of disapproval at her.

"At least you didn't have to make out with him?" The P.A. responded, her voice going up at the end like she wasn't sure if Meg thought that was as good a thing as she did. "Bright side?"

"Bright side!" Meg exclaimed, raising her bottle of lambic beer up for everyone to clink glasses with her; Dean was a little slow on the uptake, but managed not to slosh his beverage all over the table as he rushed to join in on the bittersweet toast.

Sam barked out a laugh beside him before their waiter sidled up and took their food orders, the grin on his younger brother's face going a long way towards warming the icy chill that had wrapped itself around his heart at Meg's mention of Cas. A small part of himself couldn't help but wish that Cas was here with him; meeting his brother and sharing in a simple night out with friends like a normal couple, but Dean figured it was time to be a realist about this whole thing because so far blindly going along with whatever was best for Cas hadn't worked out for either of them.

They weren't a normal couple, if they even still were a couple. Cas's career was the most important thing to him and Dean didn't think he could be okay just waiting in the wings for the other man for the rest of his life. And he wasn't famous and he had nothing to offer the other man besides love which when you came down to it was pretty fucking worthless. Especially when it was measured against the more tangible dollars and cents and _stuff_ that Cas could measure his acting career in.

The choice that Cas was going to make was clear, but Dean still needed to hear that the other man didn't want him as much as he wanted to be a household name. It would kill him, but it would also be the only thing that could help him move on.

"So business?" Sam asked beside him once their food had been delivered and Dean looked up from his fish and chips to find the rest of the table watching him shrewdly.

Meg nodded briskly and removed her arm from around Charlie, settling her hands clasped together on the table in front of her in the manager posture that he had seen her use at the bar on the few occasions where she had had to reprimand or fire someone. He had never been on this end of that look, but if the way his pulse quickened unpleasantly was any indication it was just as terrifying as Jo had always told him it was.

"Dean this is an intervention," Meg stated seriously earning a groan from Dean when Charlie and Sam just nodded their agreement to the other woman's proclamation. When had his life turned into an episode of _How I Met Your Mother_?

"Guys, no." Dean wasn't above begging, especially when he was sure the main topic of the intervention revolved around a certain blue-eyed someone. "Seriously, I just wanted to eat and visit with my brother and regret all of my life choices in peace. Can we just not?"

"Nope," Charlie said brightly, popping her 'P' as she practically vibrated with excitement beside Meg. Dean saw the redhead fiddling with her phone, a device that he was starting to hate because it was constantly bearing bad news for him; smashing it would probably be the most over dramatic and pointless way of shooting the messenger to have ever existed.

"You said that you think Cas is cheating on you, Dean," Sam said softly beside him, putting a comforting hand on his forearm and it was only then that Dean realized he was gripping tightly onto the edge of the table. "Why would you think that?"

"Because that's what my life is, Sam," Dean spat softly, looking entreatingly at the younger man because if anyone knew what was going on in his head it was Sam. His brother had been there for all of it and seen the emotional wreckage that Victor had left behind, he shouldn't have to explain it. "Look at him and look at me. How could I be enough?"

"Yea, Cas is famous blahblahblah," Meg cut across, waving a hand dismissively as she spoke. "We get that part, it just means that he has to think twice about going to the store in his pajamas; it doesn't mean that he is better than you in any way shape or form. It doesn't mean that he isn't happy with you or he is only with you out of convenience until someone with more fucking name recognition or something comes along."

"Well he's doing something, with someone!" Dean exclaimed, causing their waiter to jump and turn around from where he was approaching their table to veer off in a less confrontational direction. "I mean, he made me a doctor's appointment for no reason. Like he doesn't trust me to have told him if I had something that he might catch. Plus he lets Balthazar hang all over him all the time and what if it _was_ a casting couch thing, Meg? I can't compete with someone who can take Cas all over the world, someone who can help his career and I don't want to hold him back from doing what he loves. I won't be the albatross around his neck."

"My turn!" Charlie piped, her eager grin as she handed her phone across to him yet again contrasting sharply against Meg's disapproving frown and Sam's soft, comforting smile. "That is exhibit A so...yea. Pictures are worth a thousand words or whatever so I hope that says it all because I don't have an exhibit B."

Dean probably could've gone his whole life without seeing a picture of Balthazar Roche making out hard with someone, especially when that someone was Crowley. It had been taken in one of the VIP booths at The Neighbourhood, hell maybe even on that first night when he had met Crowley and told the agent that he was in fucking love with James Collins.

The director was practically in Crowley's lap, hands cupping his face with the agent's bottom lip sucked into his mouth; there were aggressive red marks that looked like stubble burn running up the side of Balthazar's neck and even though their mouths were occupied it was obvious that both men were smiling into the kiss. Dean felt like he was seeing something he shouldn't be, an intimate moment that he had no right to observe and suddenly a lot more things made sense.

Like why Crowley had just happened to show up in San Francisco at the same time as Balthazar or how if the agent was there then the director never was far behind or the pair of blood red silk boxers that he had seen Alfie confusedly pull out of the cushions of the couch one morning only to fling them across the room with an unmanly shriek once the driver had realized what they were. Roche staying at the house and having loud disruptive sex and Crowley not saying a damn thing against it. Fond smiles between the two men shared over bagels and jokes about 'location scouting' that Dean had never fully understood.

"Cas isn't cheating on you, Dean," Meg explained softly, causing Dean to finally tear his eyes off the picture that he couldn't even really see anymore through the veil of self-hating tears that was clouding his vision. "Especially not with Balthazar. And the doctor thing...he should've told you that Crowley wanted him to go, but Cas insisted that you should go too. I think he was just worried that he had put your health at risk, not the other way around. Granted he should've probably talked to you about it first instead of announcing that you two were having unprotected sex to everyone in the kitchen."

Dean bit back a laugh at that because it was more his style to speak without thinking first, but it was still nice to know that Cas wasn't as perfect as he sometimes thought the other man was. But then Sam slapped him hard upside the back of his head and Dean turned towards his brother with a wordless cry of protest to see the younger man glaring hard at him.

"What did I do?" Dean asked, rubbing the back of his scalp that was stinging from the blow.

"You're lucky that's all you're getting," the younger man replied warningly, crossing his arms over his chest with a dissatisfied sounding harrumph. "Seriously, Dean I can't believe you would be stupid like that. How many fucking safe sex talks did we sit through with Mom and Dad and Bobby?"

"Too many," Dean grumbled reluctantly, his face burning hot with shame when he thought of how many times he had promised Bobby he would be careful and just thrown it all out the window because of Cas. Not that he probably wouldn't do it again, but it still made him feel guilty in that way only disappointing someone he respected could make him feel. "You're not gonna tell Bobby, are you Sammy?"

Sam snorted disbelievingly through his nose and shook his head at his older brother, "I'm mad, not crazy, Dean. Neither of us want to be on the receiving end on another one of his birds and bees talks; I just wish you would think less with your heart sometimes. From what Meg and Charlie have told me, Cas is just as torn up about all of this as you are, but there are serious things that you two need to talk about and figure out. He may have kept things from you, but I'm sure there are things that you haven't told him either."

Victor. Alistair. All of the reasons why he had chosen to follow Sam to California instead of staying behind in Lawrence. How horrible and disgusting and small it made him feel to hide how he felt about Cas in public when he had never been ashamed of his sexuality before. How America was sure to hate him for ruining their Golden Son by turning him gay. How afraid he was that it was only a matter of time before Cas decided he wasn't worth all the trouble that Dean was causing.

Yea, they probably needed to talk.

"Aaaaaannndd there is it," Meg said when Dean finally looked up at her. "Great, now can we eat? Because some of us have to work tonight and I would like to mack on my lady just a bit before I have to deal with Collins fans giving me the stink-eye for the rest of the night."

"Classy," Charlie said with a sincere nod at the woman next to her before turning back to the two brothers across the table. "Do you two have plans tonight? Because I would really like some wing men at the bar, being the other woman and all I would like to avoid having a drink thrown in my face if at all possible. You in?"

Sam was in because Meg promised him free booze and Dean was in because he felt guilty for putting the two girls in the position to get harassed by Cas's fans. He didn't particularly want to go to work, but it was the last place where Cas would expect him to be when he was supposed to be on vacation and he wasn't quite ready to face the other man yet.

So he volunteered to be the designated driver because someone had to be and he didn't want a repeat of last night where he had been too upset and intoxicated to try to figure out what exactly he wanted to say to Cas. Now that he had all the facts it was probably better that he had waited before issuing his ultimatum to the actor. Because even though there was still going to be one, maybe now they would be able to part ways amicably.

They could be like Bruce Willis and Demi Moore. Yea, Dean could probably live with that. Or at least he hoped he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yea! Take that story that I was having a hard time updating! I totes own'd you!
> 
> But seriously this update took sooooo long and I apologize, but hey! Now I can move on to working on an update for Deep in the Heart so if you of you read that one too rejoice! Let me know what you think of this update and be prepared to some Bobbiness finally appearing in the next chapter. XOXO
> 
> Also! Come see me on [tumblr](http://itspronounceddeathsteel.tumblr.com/)!


	16. Chapter 16

It came as a surprise to absolutely no one (except strangely enough, Jo) that Sam and Jess spent the entire evening making goo-goo eyes at each other. Dean and Charlie observed the duos' interactions from the bar, where they had moved when it became clear that Sam wasn't paying as much attention to their Cas-strategizing as he was to the pretty blonde waitress who kept finding excuses to linger at their booth. Dean couldn't blame him though, they were supposed to be out for Sam's birthday, not staging an emergency intervention for his and Cas's as of late sorry excuse of a relationship.

By midnight Dean was nursing his second glass of soda and Jess had completely given up all pretense of waiting on the few customers scattered around the bar on a weekday night, she was now sitting next to Sam in the booth loudly discussing Faulkner. Charlie was making dreamy faces at Meg who had stepped behind the bar to give Anna a break and Dean was deleting what felt like the millionth message to Cas that he had typed out that night.

Sam had given Dean his phone back finally after they left the restaurant, telling his older brother that he really wanted Dean to think about what he was going to do with Cas before just jumping into issuing ultimatums. The other man knew him so well, but then again Sam had always had a front row seat to Dean when he was feeling his most self-destructive so of course he knew all of his older brother's tells when he was about to rush into something without thinking it through.

Kinda like Dean had when he had fallen into bed with Cas in the first place. Fuck.

Okay, so the cons were pretty plain to see. Cas was fucking famous and closeted so Dean would constantly have to watch what he said and did around the other man in case anyone saw them together. He had never thought that he was into PDA very much, until he suddenly wasn't allowed to touch or kiss the one person that he wanted to. Plus, what would happen when the actor was done filming his movie? Would he just pack up and head back to La-La land, leave Dean behind with nothing but fond memories and a bed that felt empty without another body to share it with?

Pros...pros...Dean knew that there were pros to dating Cas, but it was hard to put them into words. Mainly it was just that he was happy when he was around the other man, felt lighter and safer with the actor than he had in a long time. But was that all?

He wanted Cas to meet his family, hell _be_ his family, and he wanted to be a part of Cas's. Dean wanted to tell Cas about all of the shitty stuff that had driven him to California because that's where his younger brother was going and Sam was all the family he had left to protect. He wanted to hear about what had made the actor want to act in the first place. He wanted to kiss Cas on the street and neither of them care if it ended up on a website or not.

Dean wanted to be the "..and of course my wonderful partner…" portion of Castiel's acceptance speech if he ever won an award. Or be the person who got to hold the actor when he didn't win. Mostly he wanted to grow old with Cas and he was willing to swallow his pride and apologize for all of the paranoid assumptions he had made about Cas if it meant he got a chance to do just that.

He still felt like the actor had his own fair share of apologizing to do, mostly for making big decisions without him and for blabbing about their sex life to everyone who stood still long enough to listen, but that's what relationships were supposed to be, right? A little give, a little take, a lot of compromise and enough contrition to put a gaggle of nuns to shame.

* * *

"Okay, I have an idea," Castiel announced as he burst into Crowley's bedroom with wild hair and even wilder eyes.

The agent had been dragged away from patiently listening to the actor's frankly terrible ideas about how he could win Dean back mere hours before by a very grumpy Balthazar, the director muttering murderously under his breath about how he wasn't getting paid enough to have to sleep by himself too. The director's short, silken bathrobe had instilled very little fear in Castiel, but then again he was running on the adrenaline fueled terror that only losing the person that was probably specifically designed to put up with him could induce.

He hadn't slept since Dean and he had last disentangled themselves from each other to go on that disastrous outing with Meg and Charlie. Maybe he had eaten, maybe he hadn't, but he couldn't really remember much besides the betrayed look on Dean's face and the sharp stab of guilt that he had felt as a result.

A solid night of being faced with the very real possibility of losing the other man had made Cs realize that what had made his parents' and every other functional relationship he had ever seen work so was was the fact that they communicated. Which he hadn't been doing very well with Dean since day one. Castiel had enough insight to realize that it was because he was afraid of being rejected for having his own desires and worries and quirks, but Dean had been nothing but supportive of him and the fears were based off of people in his past who had let him down.

Frankly, it was unrealistic of him to expect all of his relationships to follow the same pattern. He'd been unfair to Dean by not letting the other man have the chance to show him that the past didn't have to repeat itself just because it had maybe already done so once or twice before.

"Get out you bleedin' moron!" Crowley's voiced groaned groggily in despair as Castiel entered the room with his pronouncement, flipping on the lights as he went.

"But I have an idea how to fix things with Dean," the actor rambled, his words slurring together from excitement and exhaustion. "You're going to love it, Crow. I need you to call this radio station for me and get me an interview."

"No one in the history of _torture's_ been _tortured_ with _torture_ like the _torture_ you'll be _tortured_ with," the agent managed to grumble as he turned away from where Castiel was looming over his prone form to bury his face in Balthazar's side.

The director was slowly blinking awake on the far side of the bed and upon hearing Crowley's threat his mouth pursed in distaste and he blearily tossed the covers of before rolling up to sit on the side of the bed. Castiel averted his eyes from the other man's seated form, unsure if Balthazar sleeping in a jockstrap was something that happened all the time, but definitely not wanting that particular mental image stuck in his head; he tried to think of Dean in those pink satin panties instead.

"Get out," Balthazar groaned, his voice hoarse from sleep and probably the noises that Castiel had ignored coming from the upstairs portion of the house as he had started desperately Googling romantic gestures after Crowley had left him on the couch.

"Balth, I need him to-" the actor started, gesturing to Crowley who had pulled a pillow over his head once he had lost his bed partner.

"Go on," the director urged in a tired hushed whisper, running a hand through his hair as he spoke. "I'll come help you. Our dear Fergus is going to be useless to all of us until he get at least a couple more hours of beauty rest."

"Thanks Balth," Castiel replied, lowering his voice as he spoke because he felt bad for waking the due up now in retrospect. He stopped at the doorway of the bedroom to glance over his shoulder only to see that Balthazar had lifted up the edge of the pillow covering Crowley's face and was murmuring comfortingly to the other man. "I'll...uh, I'll make some coffee."

"Sterling idea, Cassie." the director assured lowly, waving him on his way. "I'll just be another moment."

As he anxiously fidgeted with the coffee maker in the kitchen, Castiel tried not to fret too much about how queasy and heartsick he had felt seeing Balthazar treating Crowley better than he had been treating Dean this entire time. Sure, the director had a reputation as a love 'em and leave 'em type, but Cas was beginning to realize that he shouldn't just assume things about any relationship; not even his own.

"I'll have you know that I _am not_ a morning person," Balthazar announced as he meandered into the kitchen, thankfully clad in a pair of oversized pajama pants with his silk robe knotted loosely around his waist. "So caffeinate me first and then we'll come up with a way to fix your little romance drama so that you can come back to work."

The actor nodded quickly in agreement, ready and willing to make a million more miserable movies with Naomi Tapping if someone would just tell him how to earn Dean's trust back. He offered a mug of coffee to the other man and tried to reign in his impatience as he watched Balthazar methodically stir milk and sugar into it at what felt like the slowest pace imaginable. Once the director was satisfied he made a vague waving motion with his hand that Castiel took to mean he was finally allowed to speak.

"So I figured before I fixed things with Dean, I should fix things for Meg and Charlie first," Castiel began, rushing over to grab his laptop from where he had left it tossed haphazardly on the couch when he had gone to excitedly inform Crowley of his plan. "I mean, it's my fault that they are both a part of this mess and I'll be doing what Crow was saying by defending them. 'Aligning myself with the gay community' or whatever. It was agent-speak."

"That sounds disturbingly clinical and exactly like him," Balthazar agreed with a sage nod of his head that quickly turned into a yawn. "So what was this about calling a radio station then?"

"Well there's this station here that's all about being 'out' in the bay area," the actor began, clicking over to the open tab for the station's website. It was understated and classy enough that he had hoped to sell his agent on the idea of going on show that was more progressive than Crowley probably would've chosen for him. "They are a bit more underground than Crow would probably like, but I figured he could pass on the audio to someone he might know at one of the bigger media outlets."

"Or I could just phone up my mate at NPR and cut out the middle man," the director managed to get out around a yawn.

"You have a friend at NPR?" Castiel asked, awestruck because he had considered taking his psuedo-apology to the best known form of liberal media, but assumed they wouldn't give him the time of day. He was practically no one, at least until they finished the movie.

"I don't see why not," Balthazar replied with a shrug, taking a dainty sip of his coffee before clearing his throat and continuing."She's doing a show about movie remakes and I was going to do a phone interview with her later this afternoon anyway about the film, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind taking a jab at the lower lifeforms of her profession. You could bemoan how paparazzi sensationalize every aspect of actors' lives and work your defense of Meg and Charlie into that somehow."

"Oh my god," the actor gushed, rushing to gather the director in a hug that mostly pressed Balthazar's face into his armpit, but whatever. He was just so fucking grateful and maybe he stood a chance of getting Dean to forgive him and maybe he would get to live happily ever after just like Meg and Charlie. "You're the absolute best, Balth."

"Save your sentiment until after you shoot all those tennis scenes later," Balthazar muttered, extricating himself from Castiel's clutching hold as gently as he could. "Because you're coming to work today. I absolutely cannot keep making excuses to the studio for you and Naomi has to be in Belize in two weeks for some banana commercial that is paying almost as much as the film is. Get cleaned up and then we'll go out for breakfast, I'll call Pamela about her show once I get to the set."

"Thanks," Cas told the director sincerely, feeling energized from hope despite the fact that he hadn't slept in over a day; it was almost enough to drown out the nagging doubts he had about his ability to make things right with Dean. "Do you...uh...do you think this will work, Balth?"

"Well, it's certainly a step in the right direction," the other man said simply. "And you're only human after all, Dean should understand that you aren't perfect. No relationship is either."

Castiel could agree with that last part, but he still didn't know if it would be enough.

* * *

Waking up on the couch hadn't really been fun, but Dean felt bad making Sam sleep on the couch and that guilt carried over into letting the younger man take a pass on going to the airport with him. After leaving the bar the night before, Sam spent the rest of the evening gushing over how great and beautiful Jess was, how he was going to bear her children if it was the last thing he did, and how she had given him her number so they could spend some time together while he was visiting Dean. Dean offered the idea of paying for the two of them to go to breakfast together since he still didn't have any food in his apartment and far be it from him to stand in the way of love.

Finding a hotel for Sam and Bobby was going to put a strain on his wallet since he hadn't been saving or working like he should have been while he was distracted by Cas, but maybe Meg could let Sam hole up in her guest bedroom for the week and Dean could sleep rough on the couch until Bobby went back to Kansas. But that was something he would have to figure out once he was away from the sterile, bustling, impartiality of the airport waiting area.

Dean really hated airports. Mostly because of the terrible parking and how waiting at the baggage claim seemed to bring out the absolute worst in people; it was even more soul crushing than driving on the freeway during rush hour. But getting accidentally sucked into a passing jet engine seemed like a small price to pay in order to see his favorite almost uncle.

He had left the apartment after giving Sam his spare key and some money to pick up groceries so that he wouldn't have to feed Bobby pizza for dinner and hopped in Baby to head down the 101 towards San Francisco International Airport. What should have been an easy twenty minute drive took almost an hour in the mid-morning rush hour traffic and Dean peeled into the short term parking lot for Terminal C convinced that he was late and someone had absconded with his gruff, burly bear of an uncle. Hell, it was San Francisco it could happen.

But of course when he got there not only was he early, but he also found out that Bobby's flight was delayed due to 'technical difficulties'. See, this was exactly why he drove instead of flying. If Baby had technical difficulties then Dean could just pop the hood, fix it, and be back on the road in a flash; planes were so finicky and unstable.

Once he had seen that Bobby's flight was delayed, Dean decided to head back out to wait in his car; preferring the dry summer heat to the recirculated air conditioned air of the terminal's waiting area; it reminded him too much of the still atmosphere of a hospital and Dean had had more than enough experiences with hospitals to last him a lifetime. He let the chatter of the talk radio station that Sam liked to listen to act as background static as he dozed in the front seat of his car, an alarm set on his phone to get up and check on Bobby's flight every half hour or so.

He definitely did not think about Castiel, about how maybe he should just take the blame for everything that had happened because really? How much more of a paranoid, jealous jerk could he have been acting like? He would never find someone as great as the other man ever again, so maybe he should just let Cas call the shots in their relationship and just be happy that the other man was allowing him the privilege of being in his life in the first place. Maybe if he lacked all self-respect he could do just that.

No he didn't think about the actor at all while he was waiting on Bobby's flight to land. Not even a little bit.

After being delayed long enough that Dean started wondering if maybe his uncle's plane had just pulled a La Bamba and gone down in a field somewhere, he finally headed back into the bustling terminal to see that the ever changing screen showing arrivals and departures had updated the listing to Bobby's flight to show that it would arrive in about fifteen minutes. Dean decided to find a prime spot near the baggage claim conveyor belt instead of going back out into the blistering midday heat to wait for the older man. The faster he grabbed Bobby and his bags the faster they could get the hell out of there.

The last thing he expected to happen was to break down like a rom-com character in the middle of the airport when he saw his uncle emerge from behind the swinging doors that led from the main portion of the airport's concourse. But really all it took was seeing the stark familiarity of Bobby's dirty trucker hat over the weathered, wiry face of the only man who had ever told him he was worth anything for Dean to realize that maybe he had been fucking up this whole adulthood thing all along.

"Oh dear lord," Bobby grumbled, bundling Dean into a hug that smelled like motor oil and shorn grass and everything he had convinced himself he didn't miss about home. "Can't even make it five minutes before the waterworks start. Didn't know ya missed me that much, boy."

"You have no idea," Dean scoffed, sniffing surreptitiously in an effort to dry up his tears when he noticed that they were starting to draw some looks from the other people who had disembarked the plane with Bobby.

"Well, come on then," Bobby said slapping him on the back briskly and gesturing towards the exit as he hefted his battered army duffel over his shoulder. "I didn't check any bags or anything, but I could sure as hell use some lunch."

"Yea," Dean agreed, making a move to take the bag away from the older man because Bobby was his guest and his mom had managed to teach him more than a few manners before the fire, but the older man tugged it out of Dean's loose grasp and strode towards the exit with an affronted look on his face.

"I'm may be old, but I can carry a bag of clothes," Bobby groused under his breath and Dean didn't even try to stifle the bark of affectionate laughter that burst out of his throat. God, he'd missed having a dad around. "Now call your brother and tell him to meet us somewhere. He can bring that girl along with him."

"How did you-" Dean began, lengthening his own stride is order to keep up with the other man.

"Unlike you, Sam knows how to pick up a phone and call a body when somethin' happens in his life," Bobby answered matter of factly, making Dean wince because yea, he'd been so wrapped up in Cas and California that he hadn't been checking in with his uncle like he had promised he would. "Lucky for you he passes along that you're alive and helps me keep up with your pertinents. Speaking of, might as well invite your beau to lunch too. Kill two birds with one stone."

"Sam told you about Cas?" Dean asked warily, wondering just how much his brother had spilled to his uncle and when. Hell, Sam had only met Jess last night and Bobby already knew about her.

"Hmmm," Bobby replied unhelpfully, remaining silent until they reached the Impala that had been baking in the sun while Dean had been inside the terminal. He squinted at Dean over the roof of the car with a serious expression on his face before a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he chuckled softly. "Sam didn't tell me, but you just did. Damn boy, learn how to pick up a phone once in a while. So what is Cas short for?"

Dean let out a groan over being fooled so easily by the other man, but then again his family had always been able to read him like a damned book. "Castiel, Castiel Krushnic. _Do not_ have Rufus do a background check on him, Uncle Bobby."

The older man made a face, but didn't agree to anything; his uncle's over-protectiveness was just another thing that Dean had, but hadn't missed. It had gotten worse after the whole Alistair thing, but since Dean hadn't really dated since that whole debacle he hadn't had to worry about the other man snooping into the lives of the people who he chose to take to bed. As they climbed into the car and Dean moved as quickly as possible to crank the air conditioning, he tried not to think about how helpful it would be to know more about Cas's past. It wouldn't be fair to pry into the actor's life for any reason and honestly, he wanted Cas to want to tell him himself.

"So you're inviting him to lunch then?" Bobby asked, fingers tapping on his knee to the soft piano- backed cover of Elvis's _Can't Help Falling in Love_ that was playing on the radio that was still set on Sam's preferred station.

"Well," Dean began, not knowing where to start or even if Bobby was interested in his ridiculous, romantic drama. "We're not exactly...we're kind of fighting right now, I guess. I don't even know if we're gonna stay together, its not a big deal."

"Sounds like a big deal," Bobby muttered, side-eying Dean for a second before he cleared his throat and turned his gaze resolutely to the scrubby grass that ran along the edge of the streets they were taking towards the highway. "I uh...your Aunt Karen and I got into a big fight once, almost ended our marriage. It didn't in the end, but if we'd had longer together we probably would've wound up resenting each other and being unhappy."

Dean was unsure of how he was supposed to respond to what his uncle was telling him. All of his vague memories of Bobby's wife were mostly centered around how fantastic her pancakes were and how sad the older man had been after she had died in a car accident. But six year olds weren't versed in the intricacies of adult relationships and Dean figured that he could contribute to the conversation by listening since Bobby obviously had a point, the other man never started a story that didn't have a moral attached.

"Whatever is going on with you and your fella," Bobby continued, unfazed by the underwriting spots that were murmuring lowly out of the speakers of the car. "You two need to talk about it, that's what I'm saying. However bad it is or whatever one of you did, if you want the relationship to work, you can't just ignore it and hope it goes away."

Dean nodded in agreement, he already knew he need to talk to Cas, but he'd kinda been alternating between hoping the other man would call him first and dreading the outcome of their conversation. He didn't want to hear the actor tell him that he wasn't worth the trouble, he didn't want what they had to end.

"What did you and Aunt Karen fight about?" Dean asked curiously, from what little he could remember about his aunt and uncle's marriage it had been a happy one. He couldn't ever remember them having even the smallest argument so whatever it was it had to have been big.

"She wanted kids and I didn't," the older man replied simply, barking out a rueful sounding laugh before he reached over to ruffle Dean's hair. "If only she could see me now, huh? Screwing up you and Sam nice and proper."

"You did a great job, Uncle Bobby," Dean assured the older man, not bothering to fix his hair before he reached over to turn the volume of the radio up a few notches. _Strangers in the Night_ was playing and Dean mentally thanked Sam for picking a station that all of them could stand listening to, he would probably wait to change it back to his preferred rock station until after his family's visit was over. "Now what are you in the mood to eat?"

"Seafood of course," Bobby replied, pulling his phone out of the front pocket of his worn-thin flannel over shirt that he was wearing. "I'll call your brother, you concentrate on driving."

" _This is Pamela Barnes, filling in for Terry Gross all this week on Fresh Air."_ The radio droned in a sultry female voice; Dean could almost tune it out, but of course that was when the hostess said, " _Today's theme is reinvention, taking something familiar and putting a different perspective on it to make something new. We will be speaking with several guests who have chosen to make reinvention into a profession. Balthazar Roche, director of the Sundance award winning film_ Weekend _and his current project, a remake of Alfred Hitchcock's_ Strangers on a Train _, will be joining us later in the program to speak about his own personal philosophy regarding the integrity of reboots and remakes. Until then, take a step back, take a deep breath, and enjoy the fresh air."_

A cover of _(I Can't Get No)Satisfaction_ came on which was good because Dean felt like he was about to crawl out of his own skin and he needed something familiar to ground him to the now. It was a reaction to Balthazar that he was going to have to get over now that he knew nothing was going on with the director and his partner, but he still wasn't sure he wanted to listen to the other man pat himself on the back about Cas's movie the rest of the time he was in the car.

"I wanna listen to that," Bobby muttered quietly, phone still against one ear as he slapped Dean's hand away from the radio when he reached over to change the station. "I love Hitchcock, you know that."

Dean sighed in defeat and just gripped the steering wheel as tightly as he could. The only person immune to the 'driver picks the music rule' was his uncle and maybe Cas, if Cas wanted to be the exception; Dean wanted him to want to be the exception.

There was another cover of a song (David Bowie's _As the World Falls Down_ and sue him, Dean was a fucking romantic okay?) followed by a few underwriting spots and then the low, even voice of the hostess was back and it was all Dean could do not to grind his teeth as she greeted Balthazar with warm, unforced affection.

" _So Balthazar,"_ the woman began after the initial pleasantries were out of the way. " _This is not your first time joining us on Fresh Air, after the release of_ Weekend _you joined Terry for a discussion about LGBTQA representation in the media; a subject that is very close to your heart as well as the heart of the current star of your new film, James Collins. Mr. Collins, welcome to the show, thank you both for taking time out of filming to be with us here today."_

" _Of course, Pamela,"_ and that was Cas's voice causing Dean to choke on his own spit right now; Bobby shot him a suspicious look as he quietly finished the voice mail that he had been forced to leave for Sam and hung up his phone, reaching over purposefully to turn up the radio. " _Though I can't say I'm not thankful for the break, tennis is so much harder than Serena and Venus make it look."_

The woman chuckled genuinely and even Dean cracked a smile, picturing Cas in a sweatband and short, bright white shorts.

" _As an actor you're very familiar with our topic today,"_ the woman said encouragingly. " _Reinvention is something that you do for each and every role you take and I'm curious if you ever find it difficult to separate your characters' lives from your personal one. Especially since the media seems to have taken a particular interest in your private life as of late."_

" _I highly doubt that my current love interest would ask me to murder someone for them,"_ Castiel confided with a conspiratorial tone to his voice, like he was letting the hostess in on a secret that was just between the two of them. Dean held his breath and waited, maybe he wouldn't have to ask Cas to choose between Dean and his career; maybe this was Cas picking him over the whole entire world. " _So for this particular role, no. I'm not having trouble keeping Guy's and my own life separate, my issue seems to be keeping my private and my public life separate."_

" _I feel like there's a good story there,"_ Pamela mused, not bothering to hide the amusement in her voice as she spoke. " _But I think that it might be one that all of America knows at this point. I assume you're referring to the speculation surrounding your romantic relationship, or if I could offer my opinion without seeming blunt, lack thereof with Megan Masters; actress in the underground cult horror franchise_ Camp Nightmare _and current manager of the San Francisco nightspot, The Neighborhood."_

" _Your opinion would be spot on, Pam,"_ Balthazar offered readily when Castiel's response was more than a few seconds coming. " _Ms. Masters is a close friend of both mine and James's as well as, how shall I put this delicately? Romantically entangled with another close friend of ours, quite happily in fact. Both women have had the unfortunate luck to end up on the wrong end of the Hollywood gossip machine and despite our best efforts James has been unable to set the record straight due to his hectic shooting schedule. Perhaps you may be so kind as to allow him the use of your airwaves to do just that and I promise we will get right back on topic, darling."_

" _What's mine is yours and what's yours belongs to the nation,"_ the hostess replied candidly. " _Take it away, James."_

Dean felt like maybe he should pull over since his chest felt so tight and his palms were sweating from nerves over what Castiel would say about their relationship, but the Impala was stuck in the middle lane of mid-day traffic and Dean was unsure if he could navigate changing lanes to get to the shoulder without crashing spectacularly.

" _I have nev-"_ Castiel started weakly, clearing his throat for a second before continuing in a much more determined voice. " _I have never been exceptionally fond of the limelight, Pamela. Not even now when lime seems to be the only colored light that shines down on me. I wanted what every person in this country wants: the opportunity to work hard to achieve success, the means to take care of my family, and the right to love and be with exactly who I choose free from scrutiny and hatred._

 _Apparently I didn't account for how much people love to put actresses and actors under the microscope even though I was guilty of it myself when I was young and Rock Hudson was my unwitting idol. I also didn't realize that the Hollywood paparazzo seems to unable to believe that adult men and women can have close friendships without romance or at least some sort of minor scandal involved; taking any duo of the opposite sex and immediately making proclaiming them to be a couple or at least,"_ there was a loud beep and a bark of laughter from both Balthazar and Pamela before Cas continued. " _-ing behind closed doors."_

" _Thank goodness Krissy is quick on the censor buzzer, James"_ Pamela chided around sparkling laughter. " _Remember that this is public radio and I don't think Terry would forgive if she came back from vacation to find her show canceled."_

" _I'm sorry,"_ Castiel apologized quickly. " _I just feel very strongly about how grossly the media misinterprets even the most innocent of interactions between actors and actresses."_

" _I could not agree more,"_ the hostess agreed firmly. " _So often we see a star's career tarnished by malicious, unwarranted speculation and gossip and its refreshing to see an actor taking the high road when putting them in their place instead of smashing any camera that gets in their way. You mentioned a current love interest? Is it your desire to spare her the same kind of callous treatment from the press that Ms. Masters has received since your supposed 'split' with her?"_

Castiel laughed and to Dean's ears it sounded almost sad, " _They are more than capable of smashing their own cameras if one got in their way, Pamela. Who knows maybe the two of us will even embrace the limelight together someday, but my purpose today was to defend Meg and her partner from the title that is being forced on them by the powers that be. Neither of those two wonderful, women ruined or wrecked a relationship simply because there was not one there to ruin. They are close friends of my current...well, we are all close friends and I hope that my defense of them can be seen as the apology to the both of them that it is meant to be."_

" _I am sure it will be,"_ Pamela said consolingly. " _Balthazar, thank you for lending me your leading man for a moment and listeners sorry for getting so terribly off of today's topic, but I hope you've found your time with James Collins to be as informative and enjoyable as I have. We will be taking a short break and when we come back James will be off to the make-up trailer and we will be talking to Balthazar Roche about his re-imagining of the classic film_ Strangers on a Train. _I hope you're finding the air invigorating, listeners. I know I sure am."_

" _National Public Radio is sponsored in part by donations from the endowment for public…"_ A recorded voice began, segueing into the underwriting spots that Dean wasn't even pretending to pay attention to because he was still reeling from the knowledge that Cas had thought of a future with him where his career and their relationship were not mutually exclusive.

And Cas had talked about him! On a radio program that millions of people of listened to everyday! Millions of people would now know that James Collins was his...okay, maybe not _his_ because Cas hadn't mentioned him by name or anything. But they would know that he was taken and that was enough to settle the primal part of Dean that had wanted to mark up the other man with hickeys and stubble burn since the first day he had met him.

"Oh holy hell, Dean," Bobby groaned in the seat beside him causing Dean to jump because he had been so wrapped up listening to Cas speak that he had honestly forgotten that his uncle was in the car with him. "You've got to be kidding me! A movie star!? Tell me, do you go looking for trouble or does it just follow you around like a lost puppy?"

Dean made a face and tried to think of something to say that wouldn't make him sound like a teenage girl arguing with her father about how much she loved her rebel without a cause boyfriend. _But Daddy, I love him!_ No, Dean wasn't going to go there...not yet anyway. So he tried to summon Sam's puppy dog eyes so that he could turn them on the older man in lieu of explanation, surely that shit was genetic or something.

"Well hell," Bobby sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face before he pulled out his phone again and gestured vaguely towards the highway in front of them. "Best take me to meet him then, least I can tell Rufus that I met an actor while I was here. Make him rightly green if I can manage to meet Naomi Tapping too."

"I'll see if Cas can pull some strings," Dean promised, pushing down the accelerator hard enough that maybe he could make it back to San Francisco before Cas left the set.

* * *

It was his own fault really for skipping all of those extra tennis practices to spend time with Dean instead. By mid-afternoon of filming at the Bay Club in San Francisco, alternating between the indoor and rooftop tennis courts so that the set could be varied enough to support the multitude of scenes that covered the matches and practices that Guy participated in throughout the film, Castiel was sore and tired and his face hurt from nodding and smiling at all of the extras that made up the spectators of the matches who flooded him with requests for pictures and autographs during breaks.

He wanted to go home and curl up in bed with Dean, watch anything with John Cusack in it and eat something that wasn't on the approved list of foods that his tennis coach cum dietician had given him that morning. But he wasn't even sure if that was an option since he had no idea about whether or not Dean had even heard his rant on Pamela's show a few hours earlier. It hadn't been one of his best moments to be sure, but with Crowley there censoring everything he said with violent slashing motions across his throat anytime it looked like he was about to mention Dean, Cas hadn't really be able to make his apology as apologetic as he would have liked.

Maybe Meg or Charlie would take pity on him and make Dean listen to it, but Castiel was too scared of what he was sure would be the other man's inevitable rejection to even pick up the phone during the short breaks between filming to call Dean. He had even gone so far as to give the device to Charlie to keep from him so that he wouldn't be tempted to do something stupid like leave a million sobbing voice mails for the other man prostrating himself on Dean's mercy.

He was trudging towards his trailer, eager to take off what felt like the millionth set of sweat-wicking, Nike emblazoned tennis getups that he had put on that day so that he could change back into one of Dean's shirts that he had been moping around in for the last few days and go the fuck home already. They had one more day of filming tennis-centric scenes, some of them with Emily Mortimer who was playing Anne, the woman whose affection ultimately shows him how toxic his relationship with Naomi's character really is. And he had to be happy for those scenes; he had to act like he was in love, genuinely and meaningfully in love for the first time ever.

God, he had no idea how he was going to manage it.

"You Collins?" A rough voice asked, causing Castiel to look up from where he was trying to deliberately scuff up the ultra-white sneakers that wardrobe had put him in as he walked.

"Yes sir," Castiel replied, eying the bearded older man wearing a faded blue trucker hat with well-worn jeans and a flannel and wondering if he was part of the crew or an extra. He thought that tennis spectators were more of a khaki and pastel polo crowd, but then again he'd never been very sporty growing up so what did he know. "James Collins, its always a pleasure to meet a fan."

"Not a fan," the other man replied simply, shaking his hand firmly before tilting his hat back and looking him up and down with a scrutinizing squint. "Not yet anyways, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt for now though since my boy seems to like you so much. Go on then, I'll make myself scarce. Just point me towards the caterer and you two can come get me when you're ready to go."

It took everything he had not to gather the older man under his arm so that he could guide him off to whatever person was supposed to be looking after him. His own dad could get like this on really bad days, thinking he was in another place and time with someone from his past, but he was just so tired and he didn't have any emotions left to deal with this too. So he just smiled pleasantly at the older man and pointed him in the direction of craft services, trying not to feel too guilty for his apathy as he finally reached his trailer and clambered inside.

He was midway through kicking off wardrobe's shoes when the sound of a throat clearing brought him out of his internal debate about whether or not he should go back out and help the older man who reminded him so much of own Alzheimer's stricken father. The absolute last person that he expected to see sitting on the sofa, hand resting casually on a stack of call sheets that one of the many many assistant producers had thrust upon him that morning, was Dean; looking just as exhausted and terrified and timid as Castiel felt.

"Hey," Dean said eventually, not making a move to climb to his feet or move towards Cas who had frozen right inside the entrance of the trailer.

"Hey yourself," Castiel replied quietly, unsure of where he should possibly start with apologizing to Dean now that the other man was here with him in the flesh. There was so much he needed to say before he could ever hope to make amends, there was so much he needed to do, but try as he might he could not will his muscles to move.

"About...before," Dean started, running his fingers along the edge of the paper under his hand. "I'm...its wasn't fair of me...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted like that about the doctor and stuff, you were just trying to take care of me."

"No, I should have talked to you about it first," Cas interjected, stopping Dean before he could continue and leaving the other man with is mouth slightly open in adorable confusion. "This relationship had...has two people in it and we should be talking about our concerns to each other. What we do is not anyone else's business and I was out of line by telling Crowley anything. I'm not...I haven't had this, what we have, with anyone in a really long time. I didn't know how to handle it on my own."

"You don't have to though," Dean blurted, rising quickly to his feet and then stopping; hand out towards Cas like he wanted to touch him, but with too much space between them to make contact. "That's the whole point of being with someone, you don't have to do it all alone."

"I don't want to," the actor admitted softly, allowing himself a step that brought him closer to Dean. The trailer wasn't that big, he could easily meet Dean halfway if the other man wanted him to. "Dean, I'm so sorry. What can I do to fix this?"

"Fuck, Cas," Dean swore without heat, taking the last long step that brought them chest to chest before he hesitantly wrapped his arms around the actor's waist and leaned in to press his face into the curve of Castiel's neck. "I think we need to talk. Really talk. And then figure it out from there."

"I can do that just…have dinner with me tonight?" Castiel asked, not wanting to ask for anything more from Dean in case their talk didn't go well.

"My family's in town," Dean replied, the sound muffled from the way that the other man tucked against him. "They want to meet you."

"Bring them along. Your family is my family."

Dean let out a snort of laughter before sighing and brushing his lips against the actor's neck in a chaste kiss. "I really hope you don't regret saying that, Cas. They aren't going to pull their punches just because you're famous."

"I'd expect nothing less," Castiel replied earnestly, shutting his eyes contentedly as the tension of his day, hell the last few days, drained out of him. Their relationship was far from fixed, but at least Dean was willing to let him try to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this fic is killing me, once I fix all of the romancy-angsty stuff I can actually get on with the plot of what I set out to do in the first place before I made this whole mess for myself. I can't promise it will be quick or painless, but eventually I will finish this fic even if it kills me.
> 
> Next one to update will be It's Kind of a Funny Story which I honestly haven't even started yet so bear with me. In the meantime let me know what your thoughts on this fic are or come visit me on [tumblr.](www.itspronounceddeathsteel.tumblr.com)
> 
> XOXO


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